Nate sat at the edge of the boy’s bed. “I know you have a hard time, and I promise I’ll speak to your teacher. But you’ll never be a better reader if you don’t go.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Now come on, it’s almost time to leave.”
“You’re always saying you’ll talk to my teacher, but you never do.” Mark shot him a disgusted look, tossed the covers off and mumbled to himself.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I will definitely make time next week to do that.” His stomach clenched as the guilt engulfed him. Sighing, Nate returned to the chaos in the kitchen.
“Mrs. Darby said she can’t come ‘til this afternoon on account of her breathing ain’t good, and she needs time for her medicine to work.” Matt greeted him.
“Great, the start of another perfect day in the Hale household.” Nate took the still-crying baby from Luke.
“Matt, go upstairs and hurry your brother along and then get going. I’m gonna have to bring these three with me to the shop. I have a lot of work today.”
Nate unlocked the door of the shop with Nathan Hale, GUNSMITH, painted in scripted gold letters on the door. Its location, between the barbershop and mercantile on the main street of town, drew a lot of business.
Racks of guns lined the area. Pieces of a rifle were strewn over a worktable shoved against the back wall. Boxes of various sizes of ammunition were stacked neatly on shelves next to the cash register.
Nate spread a blanket on the floor and set Julia-Rose there. Then he tied her to a table leg with a strap to keep her from wandering around. “I’m sorry, sweetie, seems I’m always tying you to something.”
Luke and John settled near the baby on another blanket, already busy with their wooden soldiers.
He settled down to work, cleaning and re-assembling the Winchester. He glanced at his three children on the floor and shook his head. The last six months had been hell. Kids, shuffled from place to place. Burnt meals, missing laundry. Most nights he collapsed into bed, convinced he was the worst father on earth. It was during one of these tirades with himself that he’d decided to send for a bride.
With no time or desire for courting, using an agency to find a suitable wife seemed to be the best solution. Then there would be no expectations. He needed a helpmate, someone to take over the household chores so he could get to work every day. On the application, he was adamant about what he wanted. Not interested in how she looked, he didn’t even request a picture. He hoped for a nice, sturdy partner. No fuss, no nothing.
The bell over the front door rang. Mrs. Watson, one of his steady customers, entered the shop. A tall, thin woman, she wore a permanent frown that belied her sweet disposition and generous heart.
“Mornin’, Mrs. Watson.” He wiped his hands on a nearby cloth and walked to the counter.
“Mornin’, Nate. I came to pick up Grandpa’s rifle. Is it ready yet?”
“Just finished it up yesterday.” He turned and reached to the top shelf for a flintlock musket the old gentleman’s father had used in the Revolutionary War. “Here ya go.”
“Oh, my.” Mrs. Watson glanced down and gasped. “Do you have that baby tied to the table?”
Julia-Rose reached both hands up, her little face smeared with dust from the floor. “Mama.”
Heat rose in his face as he looked at the baby. “Yes, I’m afraid I had no choice. Mrs. Darby couldn’t come in this morning—breathing problems again—and I had to bring them with me. The last thing I need is for Julia-Rose to be crawling around guns.”
“Well, you just untie that precious little one, and I’ll take her and your boys home with me for the morning. This is no place for children.”
“I really appreciate that.” Nate hurriedly untied the baby. “Come on, boys, pick up your things. Mrs. Watson is taking you to her house.”
“Do you have cookies, Mrs. Watson?” Luke’s round saucer eyes looked at her with longing.
“I certainly do. And I have some nice chicken for your lunch.” She smiled at the boys as she gathered them up.
“I like chicken, Mrs. Watson.” John said, hopping up and down on one foot. “Is it all black like when Papa makes it?”
The woman glanced at Nate and winked. “No, my chicken is not all black.”
“Good. I like chicken that’s not all black.”
“I’ll stop and tell Mrs. Darby she can pick them up when she’s feeling better.” The woman took the baby from Nate’s arms. “I think it’s best if I leave the rifle for now. I’ll get it later. I can’t manage that and the children, too.”
“Thank you so much. This is very nice of you.” Nate breathed a sigh of relief as he watched them all head for the door.
“By the way, Mr. Hale.” Mrs. Watson turned slightly as she opened the door for the boys to go through. “You need a wife.”
“I agree.” He returned to his work and grinned. “I have one in the mail.”