The Blacksmith’s Bravery by Susan Page Davis Read Free Book Online Page B

tending the—”
    â€œWhat day is it?”
    â€œIt’s Monday.”
    â€œNo, no, what day of the month?”
    â€œOh. Let’s see, I believe it’s the fourth.”
    â€œOctober fourth.”
    â€œYes, that’s right.” Ellie eyed him curiously.
    Griffin ran his hand through his thick beard. He still hadn’t trimmed it. Why on earth hadn’t Evelyn telegraphed him with thisnews, not to say asked permission to send the boy? He had to get to Mountain Home by tomorrow to meet his nephew, and Mountain Home wasn’t even part of his branch line. He’d have to ride up to Boise and change to the main line there. That or ride a horse across country. But then what would his nephew ride back on?
    â€œMr. Bane? Are you all right?”
    â€œWhat? Oh. Yes, thank you.” He turned and staggered out the post office door and down the steps. Where would he keep the boy— Justin? He checked the letter to be sure he had the name right. His bed wouldn’t hold both of them. He could give it up for Justin, he supposed. But why should he? Yet there wasn’t room in his small lodging for another bed.
    Could he let the boy sleep in the loft over the livery? The stage drivers slept there before the boardinghouse opened. But he’d be so far away, Griffin wouldn’t hear him if he cried out in the night. How old was the lad, anyway? Evelyn hadn’t said. She’d mentioned smoking.… He must be at least fifteen.
    Griffin scrunched up his face, recalling the first and last time he’d tried smoking. His father had caught him out behind the barn and tanned his backside but good. He’d been twelve.
    What was his sister doing to him?
    His breath came in quick gasps, and his boots thunked loudly on the boardwalk. When he came even with the Wells Fargo office, Annie Harper had pulled her wagon over and was letting the shooting club ladies climb down. He ducked quickly inside the office and shut the door.
    How could he go to Mountain Home tomorrow? He was still shorthanded. He needed to round up a shotgun messenger for tomorrow’s run to Silver City, and if the man who came in on the Boise stage wouldn’t do it, Griffin would have to do it himself. And what if he did go to Mountain Home? What if he got all the way over there, and Justin didn’t show up? He sat down heavily. There must be a good way to handle this. It occurred to him that he didn’t pray much, but now might be a good time.
    Uh, heavenly Father… uh… I know I don’t talk to You as much as I should. But I’m thankful for… for everything You do for me. And I was
wondering… well, could You help me figure out what to do with Evelyn’s boy? It’s too late to tell her not to send him. Uh… thanks
.
    A soft knocking sounded on his door, and he jerked his head. “It’s open.”
    The door creaked on its hinges. Vashti Edwards stood there in her usual crinkly finery. He guessed that was all she had to wear—satins and taffetas left over from her saloon days, but no soft cotton housedresses like the ranchers’ wives wore. She was probably being frugal, wearing her old dresses until they wore out, but it was distracting.
    â€œWhat do you want?” He pushed himself to his feet, not caring whether he sounded rude. He had a family crisis to deal with.
    â€œMr. Bane, I wondered if you’d reconsidered letting me learn to drive the coaches. I’m willing to—”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œPlease, Mr. Bane? I’ve done a good job for you here in the office, haven’t I?”
    He looked her over grudgingly. “Yes, you have, but that doesn’t mean you could handle a team. Besides, at the moment it’s not a driver I need.”
    â€œWhat do you need, sir? Maybe I can help.”
    â€œI need a place for a boy to stay. And a shotgun rider for tomorrow’s run to Silver City.”
    â€œA