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. She was going to stop in and check on them. Did she think he’d harm the boy?
Jackson had to flatten the upset end of the rod. He pounded the lump with the face of his hammer until it flattened into a round shape. He then forged the round part into a scoop. As he worked, his thoughts continued to focus on Eliza. How was she spending her morning? Would she be setting up her dress shop? Sewing?
Without much thought to what he was doing, Jackson heated the flattened end of the rod again and used the peen end of his hammer to make a curved dent in it. He continued to hit the scoop with the peen until it was totally rounded. When the spoon was fully shaped, he smoothed the ladle’s handle with a file.
“Jackson? How much longer do I have to sweep?” Peter called from the other side of the room.
“Until the whole shop is clean,” he answered. Jackson grinned as the boy began sweeping again. He knew Peter would be sick of sweeping before the day was over, but that was a big part of what Peter would be doing. Sweeping built arm muscles and taught discipline. The first few years every apprentice learned by cleaning and watching.
He continued to work on the kitchen ladle. Heating the straight end of the rod and then hammering it around the horn of the anvil, Jackson created a finger-size loop. Once it was just the way he wanted it, he began hardening the ladle by plunging it first into the fire and then cold water. He did this several times until the iron was strong and durable.
Once it was cool enough, he held it up for inspection.
“That turned out mighty nice,” Peter said.
Jackson turned to study the boy. Peter had moved so silently that he hadn’t realized the boy was right behind him until he spoke. “Thank you.”
He hung the ladle on a nail by the door and then motioned for Peter to join him. They moved to a quiet corner of the smithy. Jackson picked the little boy up and set him on a barrel. “Peter, you can’t be sneaking up behind me like that. You could have been hurt if I had swung around real sudden like.”
Peter nodded. His bottom lip came out, and he clamped his top one over it.
“And another thing, big boys don’t pout.” He eyed the boy.
Peter released his lower lip. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I just wanted to watch.”
“You can watch by standing in front of me, not behind. Do we understand one another?” Jackson didn’t enjoy scolding the boy, but it was for his own good. The last thing he wanted was for the child to be hurt.
Peter nodded. “Yep, stand in front of you, not behind.”
Jackson ruffled his hair. “Very good. Now before we do anything else I want you to look around.”
“All right.” Peter made a big show of rotating his head and looking about the smithy.
“Do you see the fire pit?”
Peter moved his head to look at the fire pit and nodded.
“That is called a forge. It’s very hot and very dangerous. I don’t want you getting too close to it.” Jackson waited for the little boy to nod again. “Good, now look over there on the big stump.”
Peter’s gaze followed Jackson’s pointing finger. “What’s that big thing on top of it?” he asked.
“That is an anvil. See how close it is to the forge?”
“Yep.”
Jackson waited until the boy looked up at him again. “Never run or walk between the anvil and the forge. You can trip and fall into the fire. As a rule, you are never to run in the smithy. There are sharp pieces of metal in here, and you have to be very careful not to get cut.” As he talked he wondered at the wisdom of having a child so young in the blacksmith shop. From his experience most apprentices were closer to the age of ten, not six.
“I’ll be careful, Jackson. My pa taught me to be a good boy. He said I should listen to grown-ups so that I don’t get hurt.” His eyes moistened and he dropped his head.
Did the boy mean grown-ups would hurt him? Or that they were giving good advice? Jackson continued to study Peter as he swung his feet and avoided looking at him. He cleared his throat. Peter looked up.
Jackson felt his heart open for the boy, and he knew he’d never let anyone or anything hurt the child. Earlier he’d questioned his decision to apprentice the little boy, and now he was thankful that he’d decided to do just that.
“I have only one more thing to say to you, young man, and I expect you to listen.” He waited for the child’s response.
Big green eyes studied his face, and then Peter nodded and answered, “All right.”
Jackson moved to stand directly in front of the little boy. He placed his hands on each side of Peter and leaned down until they were eye level. “I will never hurt you, and if I can prevent it, neither will anyone else. If you get scared or think a grown-up is going to harm you, you come tell me.”
Peter stared him in the eyes. His green ones filled with tears and then he flung his arms around Jackson’s neck and hugged him tight. In a small voice he asked, “Does that mean you are going to be my new pa?”
Chapter Seven
Eliza stood in the doorway watching and listening. She’d heard the sincerity in Jackson’s voice as he’d promised the boy his protection. She held her breath as she waited for him to answer Peter’s plea to be his new pa.
Jackson gently pulled the boy back and looked him in the eyes once more. “Where is your pa, Peter?”
She continued to wait with bated breath. Would Peter tell him? Both she and Sally had tried to get the child to tell them where his pa was.
“I don’t know.” He dropped his head back onto his small chest.
Eliza released the oxygen in her lungs. She’d thought maybe Jackson could get through to the little boy.
Jackson gently raised his chin. “You really don’t know?” he asked.
“I
