The Blacksmith

by Bryan A. Salisbury

  Blake said, smiling, “Fair enough, in you go, boys. I’ll be back directly, don’t you let these boys go anywhere when they’re done. As a matter of fact, mister ahh…” And he looked at the barber and the barber said, “That would be Mr. Brady, Bill Brady.”

  “Alright, Mr. Brady, I’ll be back directly. You take their clothes, hats, boots, everything and burn them. That ought to keep them here when they’re done.”

  Hap and Avery stood there with their mouths open and they blustered, “Can’t take our clothes. We be naked as jaybirds. Can’t have the women folk seeing us like that.”

  “Let me worry about that,” Blake stated. “Now, in you go.”

  Grumbling and muttering to themselves, they entered the back room where the tubs were and started to strip.

  “Do the best you can with them, Mr. Brady, and when you’re done, I want those beards gone and their hair short. Try to make them look respectable.”

  “Harrumph,” said the barber. “Not much chance of that but I’ll see what I can do. It may take quite some time.”

  “Well,” Blake said thoughtfully, “A man died who was in a hurry once.”

  The barber shot him a puzzled look and shrugged his shoulders.

  Speaking loud enough for Hap and Avery to hear him, Blake said, “You boys are going to get a haircut and shave and I don’t want any trouble about it.” In the back he could hear Avery muttering to himself, “Gotta’ take a bath, gotta’ take a haircut, gotta’ take a shave. This dang fool is trying to make us into bankers.” Blake was laughing to himself as he walked out the door and down the boardwalk to the general mercantile.

  As Blake opened the door to the store, a small bell tinkled, announcing his arrival. A younger man looked up at him from in back of the counter and came around to greet him. He smiled and stuck out his hand and said, “Welcome. How may I help you, sir?” About the same size as Blake, he wore a pinstriped shirt with back elastic bands above the elbows. There was a pretty woman with long dark hair stocking some shelves nearby. Blake assumed she was his wife. A young girl, roughly about four years old in a gingham dress, came running over to see him. Smiling, Blake said, “Yes, I believe you can,” and he shook the man’s hand.

  “Well sir, my name is Joshua Dooley and that is my wife, Terry, and my daughter Madeline. My son, Ethan, is over behind the counter sleeping. We just bought this store and we are trying to get the shelves stocked up. We’re a little low on some things but we are expecting a shipment in any day now.”

  “Pleased to meet you and your family, Mr. Dooley. I need some clothes, boots and such. My name is Blake Thorton.” He immediately liked them and touched the little girl on the head.

  “Please call me Josh. Are the clothes for you?”

  “No, for two other men,” replied Blake.

  “Those two I saw you taking into the barber shop? They looked like they sorely needed some fresh ones,” Terry said.

  “That would be them, ma’am. I’m having the barber burn the present ones.”

  “Probably for the best. They did look beyond repair,” Terry replied. “I think I can guess what size they need, if I’m wrong we’ll find some that fit.”

  “Obliged ma’am, I’m sure you’ll do fine, and I’ll need everything top to bottom including some sort of hats,” Blake told her while he was looking around the store. Terry and Josh started putting together the piles of clothes and Blake began looking for some items he might need for himself. Madeline was following him when he turned and he almost knocked her over, “Whoops, sorry, little lady,” said Blake catching her.

  Terry came right over to see what happened and apologized to Blake, “Sorry, she can be awful curious sometimes.”

  “No harm done,” smiled Blake.

  “Would you buy me some candy, Mister?” Madeline cooed.

  “Madeline!” Terry said sharply. “You leave the gentleman alone!”

  Blake smiled warmly at the little girl and knelt on one knee in front of her. “Can you recite the alphabet? Because, with your mother’s permission, I will buy a piece if you can. But you have to earn it.”

  Before her mother could say anything Madeline rattled off the alphabet without any hesitation.

  Blake smiled. “How high can you count?” She got to about eighteen before she hesitated scrunching up her face. “Well, that’s real good. Now ask your Mom because I think you earned a piece for your brother as well, when he wakes up.”

  Madeline quickly turned to her mother with pleading eyes. Terry looked at her with a disapproving eye, then she looked at Blake. He just winked at her to let her know it was alright with him.

  Terry melted and said, “Just one, young lady,” and she held the jar down with some bright red and white peppermint sticks in it. The young hand darted quickly in it and pulled out two sticks. “Madeline …” Terry warned, but Madeline cut her off and said, “One is for Ethan, Mommy.”

  “I’ll take Ethan’s later, missy. Now put one back.” Obviously, Terry was onto her tricks. Madeline complied and put one back in the jar. She turned to Blake and said, “Thank you, Mister,” and skipped off to enjoy her newly won treat.

  “You’re welcome, Miss,” Blake called after her, but she was gone. “That is one smart little girl you got there ma’am. She’s going to bear some watching.”

  “Don’t I know it! She can be so precocious sometimes.”

  “Takes after her mother,” Josh said teasing. “I believe I have everything for you, Mr. Thorton.”

  “If you’re Josh, then I’m Blake.”

  “Alright, Blake, anything else? I mean you wanted just one set per man right?”

  “That’s my limit today, Josh. What do I owe you?”

  “I figure ten dollars twenty five cents will cover it. I put in two belts to help the pants fit. The shoes are lace up, and freighter hats are good for general use.”

  “That’s just fine. Say, when you mentioned that you were trying to get set up, were you looking for help?” Blake asked as he took out the money and paid.

  “Not really,” Josh said “We’re just getting started and I don’t have enough money to pay anybody.”

  “I have an idea if you are agreeable.” Blake proposed his plan and it was a little strange, but Josh agreed. Tipping his hat to Terry, Blake left the store.

  ******

  Blake walked back into the barbershop to check on the progress of his two miscreants. The barber came out looking somewhat frazzled. He looked at Blake and said, “Those two are something. When I tried to change the water on the one, he raised such a fuss about leaving, the other one got out of his tub and came over and cuffed him on the head. It was funny how quick he settled down and let me change the water. Anyways, they’re almost done, but I still have the barbering to do.”

  Blake was trying not to laugh. He set the packages of clothes on a chair and took out five dollars. “Will this help?” The barber sighed and said, “It won’t hurt.”

  “Good, now here’s some clothes for them so they don’t have to sit naked on your chair.”

  “I certainly appreciate that, I surely do,” the barber said, nodding.

  “Now is there a livery so I can put my horse up for the night?” Blake asked, still amused.

  Pointing, Brady said, “Follow this street to the end and turn left, can’t miss it.” The barber was smiling now, getting the humor in the situation.

  “I’ll be back in a little while,” and Blake left the shop. He walked over and got Bull. Walking down the street he noticed most of the people were friendly, some others eyed him with a degree of suspicion which is normal when a stranger is around. However, Blake was used to that and it didn’t bother him. When he turned the corner, he found the livery just where Brady said it was. Right next to it was a building with “Blacksmith” painted across the top of the door. Great, he thought, now I can get his shoe fixed. As Blake approached the livery, a man came out pushing a wheelbarrow of horse droppings. H
e had been working hard due to the sweat staining his shirt. Blake waved at him and said, “Hello, is this your stable?”

  “That’s right, Mister. Joe Bergman is my name.”

  “Nice to meet you, Joe, I’m Blake Thorton. Do you have a place for my horse for tonight?”

  “Sure do, just the horse or you, too?”

  “Just the horse. Hopefully there’s a hotel where I can stay.”

  “Sure is, you must have walked right by it. They are repainting the sign but I can tell you where it is,” Joe said.

  “That’s great, I could use a soft bed tonight. I also need my horse reshod. He threw a shoe and I would like them all redone.”

  “That, sir, is a problem,” Joe said pursing his lips. “See, the blacksmith shop is closed and I can’t help you with my bad back.”

  “Well, if you lend me the tools I can do it then,” said Blake.

  “Wish I could, friend, but the bank has the keys to the shop, not that we have any shoes left. See, the blacksmith died some months back and we used them all up. This town’s hurtin’ for sure. Say, you ain’t a blacksmith are you?”

  “I’ve had some experience, and I can make my own shoes, but how can I get in the forge?” Once again Blake would need to use the skills his father taught him and, like so many times before, he would return to the forge.

  “Just go over to the bank and talk to old, fat Weatherby and, if he’s done pinching pennies for the day, he can help you,” said Joe. Blake could tell Joe did not care much for the banker.

  “Pretty tough, is he?” asked Blake.

  “He’s a carpetbagger from way back,” Joe told him, “I suppose that he runs a good business, but not everyone can be one of the almighty MacIntyre’s with more money than God. Some of us make a livin’ two bits at a time. Not that I’m jealous, mind you, I do alright, but sometimes when times get lean, a man could use a little generosity. That would not be found in that bastard’s heart.”

  Blake pursed his lips and said, “Well, I guess I’ll go talk to him and see what I can do. You think you can take my horse, unsaddle him, rub him down good and give him a double order of oats?”

  “Sure thing,” replied Joe. “That’ll be four bits for the rub down and oats and four bits for the night.”

  Blake took five dollars out of vest pocket and gave him the money along with Bull’s reins. “Here you go, I don’t know how long I’ll be staying.” He turned to walk away, but after a couple of steps, he stopped and turned back to Joe. “Say, do you work here all by yourself?”

  “Yup, I do,” Joe replied. “Sometimes I could use some help seeing as this damn back of mine has been givin’ me fits, but I can’t find someone I can get along with enough to hire ‘em on permanent.”

  “I’ve got an idea that might just work out for the both us.” Blake presented his plan to Joe who was very reluctant at first but said he’d try it with no promises. They shook hands and Blake headed back to the barbershop.

  Chapter 3

  When Blake got back to the shop he found Hap sitting in the waiting chair and the barber working on Avery’s hair. Hap was sitting in his new clothes with his hat on his lap. Blake was awe struck on how getting a bath and a shave could change a man so. “I’ll be damned,” Blake said. “I wouldn’t have believed it possible.”

  Hap looked up at him and said, “Feels kinda good. The barber put some of that lilac water in there and I smell like a meadow. Clothes fit good, too.” He had on the green shirt and striped pants and probably the first pair of socks he’d seen in a long time. The boots were a worker style, just covering the ankle and with a low heel.

  Avery did not seem to hold the same enchantment with the new duds. “They itch,” he muttered. “And I smell like a girl.” The barber stopped cutting his hair for a moment and rolled his eyes.

  “Hell of lot better than when you first got here,” Blake stated firmly.

  “Amen,” Brady chimed in. He stepped away from the chair to admire his work. “Well, Mr. Thorton, I believe you can make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.” He removed the sheet from Avery and brushed him off as he stood.

  “Well, you happy now?” a disgruntled Avery said. “You done made me look like a dandy.” He ran his hand over his freshly shorn chin and short clean hair.

  “Delighted,” said Blake. “Now I can at least stand to be near you. Mr. Brady, thank you very much. You did a fine job.”

  “My pleasure, sir. Not often am I presented with quite such a challenge.” Then he took out a broom and dustpan and started sweeping the ankle deep hair off the floor.

  Blake opened the door and waved his hand to Hap and Avery. “Gentlemen, shall we go?” They both placed their new caps on their heads and went out the door onto the boardwalk. Blake followed and stood behind them.

  “Are we fixin’ to go down to the sheriff now?” Hap asked very quietly.

  “Not just yet, boys. I’m hungry and could use a hot meal. I don’t suppose you two could use some supper, could you? I’ll pay.”

  “Hell yes!” Avery exclaimed his eyes lighting up. “Normally I won’t accept no charity from no one, but ifn’ you insist upon it, it wouldn’t be polite to be sayin’ no.”

  “Oh, I insist,” Blake said flatly. “Is there a café around here?”

  “Don’t rightly know, usually we make our own grub, and it ain’t all that good neither,” said Hap, scratching his chin.

  Blake saw an attractive woman coming toward them and stepped back to allow her to pass. “Excuse me ma’am, could you direct me to a place where we could find some dinner?”

  “Yes sir, I would recommend Chrissy’s.” She smiled sweetly and pointed up the street. “She makes some of the best food in the territory at a reasonable price.”

  “Thank you ma’am, obliged,” Blake said, tipping his hat. Then she continued on her way and said, “Gentlemen,” and swayed easily past them. The three watched her go on her way and when she was out of earshot Avery giggled, “I think she’s kinda’ sweet on me.”

  “Yeah, right,” Blake said as he pushed them both out into the street.

  The three of them made their way down the street in the direction the lady had pointed. The town was alive with people, but it wasn’t crowded.

  Several shops lined the boardwalk including a dressmaker, a leather store, and a bakery. Blake found the bank, but decided to wait until tomorrow to meet Mr. Weatherby. He saw a gunsmith and what he assumed to be the hotel because he had forgotten to ask Joe where it was. He could hear the tinkling of a piano toward the end of the street and saw the sign over the batwinged door calling it the Trail’s End Saloon. Several horses were tied up in front and laughter and loud talk could be heard down the street. Suddenly Blake could smell the café, and it smelled delicious. His stomach growled and he realized that he hadn’t had a good hot meal in over a week. His cooking on the trail wasn’t bad, but couldn’t compare to this. The next building down had a sign over the door announcing Chrissy’s, and in smaller letters underneath, “All Welcome.”

  “I guess this is it, boys,” and they entered the café. It was not a big place, but it could seat about thirty people with room for five at the counter. It was about half full of people of all sorts, business men, some cowboys and three drummers as near as Blake could tell by the valises sitting next to their chairs. Bright red and white checkered tablecloths were on each table with a small flower vase. It was clean and roomy with matching chairs. Obviously, the owner had a lot of pride in it. A woman came out of the rear door from the kitchen carrying plates of steaming hot food. When she saw the three of them, she said, “Sit anywhere you like, and I’ll be right with you.”

  Blake was seldom taken back by a woman, although he could appreciate beauty. This woman was one of the prettiest he had ever seen in his life. She had long wavy blonde hair that fell past her shoulders and a flawless complexion. She was taller than most women, about five foot ten and a full figure that Venus herself would env
y. Blake figured her to be about thirty or so, three or four years younger than himself. The one thing that detracted from her was a look of coldness in her eyes, something that told him that she was a no nonsense, up front, no bullshit woman who could take on anyone who got in her path. It was a quality that a beauty like her should not possess. What Blake didn’t know was that Chrissy had lost her husband two years ago from a cholera outbreak in town. Life had been very hard for her since.

  She set down the plates on the table near the door and came over to the three of them. “Just the three of you?” she asked curtly.

  Blake hesitated for a moment and replied, “Ahh … yes ma’am.” She cocked an eyebrow at him and pointed to a table against the wall with four chairs. “Why don’t you take a seat over there and I’ll bring over a menu.” Again her voice was not impolite but not friendly either.

  “Fine,” he said and they made their way over to the table and sat down, Hap and Avery on one side with Hap near the wall and Blake on the other side. Blake removed his hat and placed it on the chair next to him. He noticed Hap and Avery had not removed theirs and said, “Hats, gentlemen.”

  “What fer?” Avery grumbled. “My head might get cold.”

  “Because you’re inside and about to have dinner,” Blake said impatiently. They both reached up and removed their hats and Blake took them and placed them next to his.

  The woman returned to the table with three menus and handed them out.

  “This your place?” Blake asked with smile.

  “Yup. The special today is chicken and dumplings with potatoes and carrots,” she replied quickly. “You need a minute to look at the menus?”

  Blake looked at Hap and Avery who shook their heads and said, “No ma’am three specials will be fine, and maybe some coffee.” She grabbed the menus and headed back to the kitchen.

  “I hope the food’s hot, because it ain’t gonna be for long ifn’ she’s carrin’ it,” Avery giggled.

  “Behave,” Blake warned. A minute or so passed when three cowboys strolled in. The one in the lead had an air of importance about him, like he owned the place and everything in it. The two behind him acted like they deserved respect just because they were with him. The first man had on clean clothes and a Stetson hat set on his head at a slight angle, his hands were soft and clean denoting he rarely did any real work. He wore a Colt Peacemaker on his right hip tied low and looked like he could use it. The other two men were a little dirtier but still looked like they really didn’t work much either. They walked over to the table with the three drummers and just stood there, waiting. After a second or two one of the drummers noticed them and asked, “Help you, gents?”