“It’s my ma’s recipe. I can’t wait to see her again and tell her about the baby.” She picked up the potatoes and passed them to Eliza.
Eliza noticed Jackson focused on his meal and didn’t say much. “You haven’t told them you are coming?” she asked, taking a sip of iced tea.
Dan answered for his wife. “They know we are coming, just not about the baby.”
“Oh, I see. Do you have room in your bags for a couple of baby blankets I’ve made up for you?” Eliza dished food onto Peter’s plate.
Surprise filled Sally’s face. She smiled and replied, “I do. Thank you, Eliza. How did you know I’d need them?”
“Every mother needs blankets. I make them all the time to give to the young mothers in the area. And they don’t take long to whip up. Last night I borrowed Rebecca’s sewing machine and made up a couple for you to take.”
Sally continued to smile at her. “You have the kindest heart, Eliza. Thank you.”
Embarrassed at the compliment, Eliza turned to Peter. The little boy’s big eyes stared at Jackson. He titled his head sideways and tried to see into Jackson’s face.
Dan must have noticed, too, because he said, “Peter, I’d like you to meet Mr. Hart. He’s going to teach you how to be a blacksmith.”
“Really?” Peter’s small voice asked in awe.
Dan laughed. “Really.”
“Nice to meet you, sir.” Peter held out his hand.
For a moment, Eliza wasn’t sure how Jackson would react. She almost sighed when he reached across the table and took the small hand into his own. “Nice to meet you, too, Peter. Just call me Jackson.”
“All right, Jackson.”
The little boy continued to stare at Jackson for the remainder of the meal. Eliza noticed he seemed to ignore the rest of the adults as the conversation flowed around him. Jackson paid no attention to the little boy’s stares. He answered questions when asked and every once in a while would ask a question of Dan regarding the smithy.
She leaned over and whispered in Peter’s ear, “Peter, it’s not nice to stare.”
Peter turned his attention to his food and occasionally peeked up at Jackson. He muttered the word sorry before shoving a spoonful of meat into his mouth.
Eliza could imagine the boy was in awe of Jackson’s size. She’d noticed that he towered over Dan, and his arms were twice as large. His chest and his shoulders were wide, yet he had a flat stomach. Muscles seemed to ripple when he moved. Yes, Jackson Hart was a big man and a handsome man and, from her experiences, a kind man.
“Miss Eliza, I thought you said it wasn’t nice to stare.” Peter’s young voice pulled her from her observation.
Everyone looked at her. She felt heat ignite in her face. Eliza jerked her eyes to her food and whispered, “It’s not, Peter. Now eat your food.” Eliza wished the floor would open up and swallow her. No lady stared at a man like she’d been doing.
* * *
Later that night, Jackson smiled up at the ceiling. The pretty pink in Eliza’s cheeks had blessed his heart. Peter didn’t really understand what he’d done to embarrass his new friend, but he knew to leave well enough alone.
After supper he’d helped Dan load their wagon and then said good-night. He’d watched Eliza and Peter say their goodbyes to the Tuckers and then head toward Rebecca Billings’s home.
To ensure they made it there safely, Jackson had followed them. He’d stayed well enough behind that they’d been unaware of his presence. Once they were inside the house, he returned to his room and climbed between the cool sheets on his bed.
When Dan had said they had a small room off the smithy, he’d expected just that, a small room similar to a woodshed. It turned out his room was twelve-by-twelve and had a small potbelly stove in one corner. His bed, a side table and washbasin sat beside the stove.
On the opposite wall, Sally had arranged a writing desk and a large chair with a fluffy cushion for him. She’d managed to place a small bookshelf beside the chair and had filled it with several books.
A window allowed light to flow in during the day. Yes, his room was as good as any hotel room. Only it was cheery and clean.
He hadn’t realized how close the smithy and the Tucker home were. If they were much closer, his room would be part of the house. Jackson wondered how Eliza felt about him living so close. He realized she’d said very few words to him tonight.
Jackson missed her constant chatter. Was she trying to be a good example for Peter? Or did she just feel as if she no longer had to talk to him? Then he remembered that the boy had embarrassed her; perhaps that was the cause of her silence.
He turned over on his side and thumped his pillow. Jackson reminded himself that he needed to get some sleep. A blacksmith worked from sunup to sundown.
The night continued with him getting very little sleep. After several hours, Jackson pushed the covers back and lit a kerosene lantern. He flopped into the big chair and picked up the Bible. He became lost in the story of Joseph and the hardships he’d endured in his young life. Yet God never left him, and everything he put his hand to prospered. A tiny thread of hope wove its way into his heart. He was no Joseph, but if God was no respecter of persons, then God could and would do the same for Jackson Hart. He just needed to get his life in line with God’s plans for him.
After a few hours of reading, he walked back to the bed. Jackson did something he’d not done in a long time. He knelt and prayed, first thanking the Lord for not abandoning him, then promising to do his best to follow the Lord’s guidance in his life. He climbed into bed and closed his eyes. His last thoughts were of Eliza.
The next morning, Peter ran into the shop. He carried a lunch pail and apple. “I’m here, Jackson.”
Jackson had just started working on a new ladle for Mrs. Harper. Seth had told him the woman would be by in the afternoon to pick it up. “I see that.”
Peter’s blond hair stood on end this morning. His green eyes scanned the blacksmith shop. “Whatcha want me to do first?” he asked.
“You can put your lunch pail over on that bench and then grab that short-handled broom and start sweeping.” Jackson watched the door for Eliza. When she didn’t arrive, he sighed.
He turned his attention back to the ladle. To make the ladle’s scoop, he heated one end of the rod and formed a lump. Then he held the rod upright with the hot end against the anvil. Jackson took his frustrations out on the metal by pounding the cold end with a hammer to upset the hot end.
“Whatcha doing that for?” Peter asked.
“I’m making a ladle. When I pound the cold end like this it forces the hot end to thicken.”
“Oh. I forgot Miss Eliza said to tell you she’ll be by later to see how we’re doin’.” Peter swung the broom. He seemed to be unaware that he was missing the floor as he stared at the heated metal.
“Thanks for telling me. Now move over there and sweep.” Jackson pointed to the far side of the room. He didn’t want the boy to get curious about the fire. As soon as he finished the ladle, he’d have to show Peter the smithy and tell him what to avoid. He’d also tell him what his jobs were.
Peter moved to the other side of the room. His small shoulders and arms worked as he swept at the floor. Jackson wondered where his family was and why he didn’t want to talk about them.
He pounded out the ladle’s handle. As he pulverized the rod, he rotated it to make sure the handle would be the same thickness all the way around. His thoughts returned to Eliza’s message.