Chapter Two
1890
Tad took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh spring air wafting in his workshop window as it blended with the scents of his saddle-making trade.
Even after years of working with leather, he never tired of the smell or the supple feel of it in his hands.
As he guided his knife along the line of the pattern he’d drawn to cut out the cantle of a saddle, he wondered if the coffee he’d put on had heated yet.
He set aside his knife and wandered into the front of his shop. After pouring a cup of the steaming brew, he took a long sip, pleased that his ability to make coffee had vastly improved over the years. In fact, a few of the old timers liked to drink coffee and flap their gums as they perched in chairs around his stove when it was too cold for them to sit in front of the general store and play checkers.
Tad took another swig of the coffee then turned and stared out the front window.
For all appearances, it looked like another peaceful spring day in Baker City. He stepped closer to the window and gazed across the street, noticing Posey Jacobs’ wagon parked there, although the woman was nowhere in sight.
A frown burrowed into Tad’s brow as he wondered if she’d taken Nate along with her. The little boy was a handful on a good day, but she always brought him with her to town. Most women who’d taken a turn keeping an eye on the rascal rarely did it more than once or twice. To give Posey a few moments of peace, Tad often watched Nate at his shop while she hurried to the mercantile, post office, or took care of other errands.
He was about to turn back to his work when movement down the street caught his eye. He watched as Nate swished a tin cup in a watering trough then carried the vessel full of water over to a spot where he’d created a mud puddle. The little boy hunkered down and stirred the water into the dirt, creating an awful mess.
Since he wasn’t bothering anyone, though, or into trouble, Tad decided to leave him be. He sipped his coffee and watched as Nate carried over a few more cups of water. The boy used his teeth to tug up his shirtsleeves to keep them out of the mud before he started working it again.
The youngster formed what appeared to be a mud pie, tamping it into a bent tin pie plate. Tad wondered where Nate had acquired the tin kitchen pieces, but the boy could have found them most anywhere.
Nate carried the pie tin over to a set of finely tooled saddlebags draped over the hitching rail outside one of the saloons. Tad knew the saddlebags were well made because he’d been the one to craft them.
Before he could holler at the boy to stop, Nate opened one side of the saddlebag and slid the pie tin inside.
Tad clunked his coffee cup down on the counter, yanked the front door open, and jogged across the street. Unfortunately, Joe Lambery, the owner of the saddlebags, rushed out of the saloon, bellowing at Nate to get away from his things before Tad reached the boy.
While most children might cower in fear, Nate simply glanced up at the infuriated man with an impish grin.
“Gee, mister, I just thought ya might like a mud pie. My mama always likes it when I make them for her.” Nate proudly handed the man the muddy tin cup in his hand.
“Why, I ought to…”
Tad stepped in front of Nate and put a restraining hand on Joe’s arm as he raised a fist toward the boy.
Most people thought twice before entering a scuffle with Tad. Despite a peaceable demeanor, his quiet strength and broad shoulders made him a formidable foe if someone riled his temper.
“Mr. Lambery, the boy didn’t mean anything by it,” Tad said, clamping a hand over Nate’s shoulder before he could scamper away.
“I don’t care! That little devil just ruined my new saddlebags! You know they were expensive, since you made ‘em. I spent all winter freezing my toes off up in the hills to make ends meet and that little monster made a mess of something that cost me dearly.” Joe made a grab for Nate, but Tad stepped between them.
Tad had to work to hold back a laugh when Nate leaned around him and stuck out his tongue at Joe. What Nate had done was wrong, but Joe Lambery was a lazy, shiftless saddle tramp who did as little as possible to get by. He never worked more than a week or two at any one place. Tad wasn’t certain the man wasn’t involved in some illegal schemes because he’d disappear for a while then return to Baker City with his pockets full of money.
Joe would buy himself new clothes then waste the rest on booze and women. When Joe had appeared in town a month ago, he’d ordered the saddlebags. Tad had just finished them the previous afternoon, so it was a shame for Nate to fill them with mud pies, even if Joe probably deserved it.
“Look, Joe, the boy didn’t mean any harm. He was just playing. You know how kids are.”
The infuriated man shook his head. “I don’t know how kids are. If this one is a representative of how they all behave, I ain’t got no inclination to ever discover how they truly are!” Joe’s face reddened and he made another grab for Nate.
Tad easily blocked him while keeping a grip on the child’s arm. He shifted his gaze from Joe to the boy, pinning Nate with a warning glare. Nate stopped squirming around and stood still.
“Now, Joe, if Nate were to clean out your saddlebags, do you think…
“What’s going on here?” Posey Jacobs asked as she waded into the throng of men surrounding Tad, Joe, and her son. The men gathered around all doffed their hats and politely tipped their heads to her.
“Your little hooligan ruined my brand-new saddlebags. That’s what’s going on.” Joe waggled an accusing finger at Nate as the boy cowered behind Tad. “He filled them full of mud!”
“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” Posey said contritely. She glanced at Tad and he offered her a barely perceptible nod, letting her know Joe spoke the truth.
She grabbed Nate’s hand and pulled him beside her. “Young man, I believe you have some explaining to do. Why did you fill Mr. Lambery’s saddlebags with mud?”
“I didn’t fill them with mud, Mama. I made him a mud pie. He had a pie tin and everything,” Nate said, as though that adequately explained his actions.
“Nate,” Posey cupped his chin in her hand and forced him to meet her gaze. “What have I told you about touching things that don’t belong to you?”
“Not to, but, Mama…”
“No, excuses, young man.” Posey gave him a stern look. “You will apologize to Mr. Lambery and then you’ll clean out his saddlebags.” She glanced at Tad. “They can be cleaned, can’t they?”
“They sure can. I’ll take them back to my shop and help Nate,” Tad said, lifting the saddlebags. He tipped them over and soupy mud oozed out.
Joe glared at the boy, not amused or appeased.
Posey hurried over to her wagon and lifted a biscuit tin from a basket in the back. She returned and handed it to Joe. “Perhaps this will help smooth things over?”
Joe worked the lid off the tin and the scent of baked goods filled the air. He lifted a cookie and took a bite, appreciation evident on his face as he hurriedly ate that one and took another. “I reckon, Mrs. Jacobs, if your boy will clean out my saddlebags so that they look as good as new, I can forget this incident. But if he ever does it again, I’ll string him up by his toes and leave him hanging from a tree in the desert for buzzard bait.”
Nate’s eyes widened in fear and he edged closer to Tad until he bumped against his legs.
Tad settled a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Come on, Nate. Let’s go clean up this mess.” He smiled at Posey. “I’ll keep an eye on him while you see to your errands.”
“Thank you, Tad. I’ll hurry,” she said, taking a few rushed steps back in the direction she’d come.
He offered her a reassuring smile. “Take your time, Posey.”
Tad led Nate back across the street to his shop. In the workroom, he showed Nate how to wipe the mud out of the saddlebags. When he was satisfied they were clean, he oiled the smooth leather then let it dry.
While they waited for the oil to soak into the leath
er, he let Nate play on the display saddles in the front of his shop.
“Is this one new, Uncle Tad?” Nate asked. He climbed on a saddle with a high cantle stained the color of black walnuts.
Tad smiled and ruffled the boy’s golden brown hair. Sunlight had lightened streaks through the unruly strands. “It is a new saddle, Nate. What do you think of it?”
The boy rocked from side to side, adjusted his seat, and then scooted forward and back. He ran a small hand over the stamped leather along the skirt then grabbed a hold of the horn and gave it a few tugs. “It’ll do.”
Tad bit back a grin and tweaked the boy’s nose. “I could say the same about you.”
The little boy offered him a cheeky smile then bounced on the saddle. “You make the bestest saddles in the whole world!”
Tad chuckled. “I don’t know about the whole world, but I do try to make good saddles, son. It’s important to the cowboys who buy them to be able to trust the comfort and quality of my work.”
“That’s why everyone wants your saddles, Uncle Tad.” The boy jumped down and ran over to a child-sized saddle at the end of the row. He often played on the butternut brown saddle, pretending it was on the back of a trusty steed.
Tad had tried numerous times to talk Posey into taking it for Nate, but she refused. If she gave in to the saddle, it meant a pony would soon follow, and she worried about Nate’s safety.
Although Tad thought a pony would help teach Nate responsibility and give him a positive outlet for some of his excess energy, it wasn’t his decision to make. No matter how much he might wish Posey and Nate were his, they weren’t.
During the past four years, Tad had fought his attraction to his best friend’s widow. He’d done everything he could think of to put her from his mind, but he couldn’t. Not when he loved her more with every beat of his heart.
No matter what he felt for her, he knew Posey still loved John. And he couldn’t blame her.
John Jacobs was the finest man Tad had ever known. He was certainly worthy of Posey’s love, even years after his death. Mindful of the promise he’d made to his dying friend, Tad had vowed to watch over Posey and Nate, and that’s exactly what he intended to do.
Watch over them. Protect them. Provide for them. Love them.
He’d done all he could to keep his love for Posey from shifting. Regardless, somewhere along the way, his feelings had changed from those of a friend to deep and abiding affection for a woman who wholly captivated him. But she’d never know. He certainly wouldn’t be the one to tell her many a night he tossed and turned, envisioning the way sunlight glistened across her golden head or humor turned her eyes into deep molasses pools he could dive right into without a backward glance.
Nope. He’d go on pretending he felt nothing more than simple friendship for the woman and her son.
In truth, Nate was almost more than Posey could handle on her own. Bright, inquisitive, and fearless, the boy didn’t seem hampered by the bounds that kept most children from hurtling head long into disaster. Combine that reckless spirit with an already mischievous, playful personality and it was no wonder Nate seemed to walk hand-in-hand with trouble.
The older the boy got, the more mischief he seemed to get into. Lately, Posey had seemed at her wits end to keep Nate from unintentionally hurting himself or someone else.
Posey would do well to fall in love and marry again. A woman with such kissable lips and a laugh that sounded like bells ringing straight from heaven shouldn’t spend her days and nights alone. However, the thought of Posey marrying anyone made Tad’s gut clench and the muscle in his jaw tick.
“What’s wrong, Uncle Tad?” Nate asked, leaning against his thigh as he continued to sit on the small saddle.
“Nothing at all, son.” Tad reached out, lifted the boy in his arms, and tickled the child’s sides.
Nate squirmed and giggled as Tad carried him to the back room. He set the boy down then checked the saddlebags.
“Let’s take these back to Mr. Lambery.” Tad handed the bags to Nate.
The little boy nodded and marched to the front door. Rather than race across the street, Nate waited and took Tad’s hand in his.
Together they walked to the saloon.
“Wait here, and do not move from that spot,” Tad said, motioning for Nate to stay by the door. He stepped inside and located Joe. “We’ve got your saddlebags ready, Joe.”
The man tipped back his hat and looked at Tad, expecting him to have the saddlebags. “Where are they?”
“Nate’s holding them outside. I thought he should be the one to return them to you.”
Joe narrowed his gaze. “Send him in, then.”
Tad crossed his arms over his solid chest and frowned. “I’m not bringing that boy in here. If you don’t want to come outside, we’ll leave them where he found them in the first place. You’re lucky someone didn’t run off with them, just tossed over the hitching rail like that.”
“I was keeping an eye on ‘em,” Joe whined.
Two of the men at the table snorted and a third spoke around the cigar dangling from one side of his mouth. “Be hard to do that since ya had one eye on your cards and the other on that bar maid over there.” He tipped his head to a woman in a revealing dress filling a tray with glasses.
“Fine. I’ll come get them,” Joe said, tossing his cards on the table with a scowl. He stomped across the floor and gave the batwing doors such a hard shove as he strode through that the wood creaked while the hinges squealed in protest.
Nate stood exactly where Tad had left him, holding the saddlebags in his hands, although his attention appeared diverted by a piece of yellow string a few feet away on the worn boards of the boardwalk.
Joe grabbed the saddlebags from the boy. “Give me those.” He opened the bags and stuck his hand inside each section, satisfied they were back to new condition. He tossed them over his shoulder then bent down and shook a finger in Nate’s face. “I better not ever find you close to my things again or I’ll forget you’re a little kid and beat the stuffin’ right out of you.”
Nate gulped and scurried over to Tad, grasping his hand.
“There’s no need to scare him half to death,” Tad said, admonishing Joe.
“I’ll scare him all the way there if he ever touches my things again. Make sure he tells his mother…”
“Tells me what?” Posey asked as she set a box in the back of her wagon and hurried over to where Tad and Nate stood outside the saloon.
Joe gave her a long perusal before he spoke. “If you don’t mind my saying, Mrs. Jacobs, someone needs to take your boy in hand. What you need is a husband and a father for that boy.”
Tad took a step away from Joe, pulling Nate with him as Posey marched closer to the man. He’d seen that particular determined look all too often and knew to stay out of her way when her temper was provoked.
All sweetness melted from her countenance like sugar in a cloudburst as she shook her finger in Joe’s face. “Contrary to the opinion of the males in this town, I don’t need a man, Mr. Lambery. I get along perfectly well on my own. As for my son, well, he’s just lively and bright and curious, sometimes far too much for his own good. Regardless, I would greatly appreciate it if you refrain from commenting on the lack of a man in our lives. The very last reason I’d wed again is just to have a man to take my son in hand, as you put it. Good day.”
She turned around and marched to her wagon, tugging Nate along beside her. Before she could reach down to swing him up to the seat, Tad stepped over and lifted the boy, tossing him in the air, eliciting a series of giggles.
“Do it again, Uncle Tad! Please?” Nate begged.
Tad tossed him again before setting the boy on the wagon seat. He then held out a hand to Posey and helped her climb up.
“I’m sorry Nate’s naughtiness created more work for you,” she said, sitting down and settling her skirts around her.
“Don’t worry about it,” Tad said, observing the pink dress with
matching jacket Posey wore. He pondered if it was new. He didn’t recall seeing her wear it before and he paid acute attention to how she appeared each time he saw her. The pale hue of her gown made her skin look like the porcelain dolls that lined a shelf at Miller’s Mercantile. Flawless and smooth, with the slightest hint of a blush at her cheeks, he wondered if her skin would feel as good as it looked.
In spite of himself, Tad leaned forward slightly and took a deep breath, inhaling Posey’s tantalizing floral fragrance. It made him think of the flowers that blossomed in his mother’s conservatory back in Virginia. He couldn’t think of the name of the flower, but the fragrance was one he knew well. In all the years he’d known Posey, her scent always made him think of a beautiful, delicate bloom.
The woman, though, had proven time and again that she could take care of herself. Even if he’d rather she allow him to help her more than he did, he admired her strength and determination to forge out a life for herself and Nate.
When he lifted his eyes from Posey’s dress to her face, his gaze collided with hers. Perhaps wishing made him see things that weren’t there. He thought he caught a flicker of longing in her expressive eyes. But that couldn’t be.
Posey would never get over John. She’d just told Joe Lambery she had no intention of marrying again, so it was foolhardy to entertain even the slightest notion she might someday return his love.
Tad wasn’t sure how he’d feel if she did, beyond the obvious emotions of elated and euphoric. Guilt ate at him every time he thought of John and the promise he’d made to his dying friend. He’d promised to take care of Posey and Nate, not take John’s place.
Yet, as he stared into the intriguing depths of her eyes, Tad forgot about everything except how much he wanted to kiss her, to love her.
Posey leaned down toward him, as though she felt the magnetic pull to be together as much as he did.
What might have happened next would remain a mystery, though. Nate grabbed Posey’s arm, jerking her and Tad back to reality.
“Mama, look!” The little boy stood and pointed to a cloud of dust rising on Main Street. The thundering sound of hooves preceded the sight of the sheriff and his two best friends racing pell-mell down the wide street.
Tad's Treasure (Grandma's Wedding Quilts Book 12) Page 2
