Love in the Balance Read Online Free PDF Page B

they couldn’t return blatant stares, Molly and Carrie resumed their stroll, but not before Molly noted the cane and thick gold chain leading undoubtedly to a heavy pocket watch.
    “An interesting development,” Carrie said. “Not that he’ll pay me any mind. He only had eyes for you.”
    Molly pretended to pick lint off her shoulder to get another look. He remained in front of the bank, folding bills into a thick wallet. “Let’s pray my parents don’t hear about him.”

3
    “Ow! That’s hot!” Bailey dropped the tongs as his knuckle brushed against a smoldering bar of iron. He popped his finger into his mouth.
    “It is a blacksmith shop,” Mr. McGraw groused as he pumped the bellows. The flames in the forge burst from orange to white hot, radiating enough heat to keep the structure sweltering, even though the double doors were thrown open and summer had long gone.
    Picking up his tongs, Bailey found the wooden bucket and immersed his hand. Ah, relief. But his hand would heal before his eyes would. His first day on the job and his eyes felt like he’d rubbed them with onions. Maybe the smell of manure back on the ranch wasn’t so bad after all.
    He took a swipe of the ointment offered by the thick blacksmith and smeared it on his knuckle, the blister already filling with fluid. “I’ll work the bellows for you. It looks safer.”
    Mr. McGraw’s muttonchops swung as he slid his jaw around. “Naw, go over there. That iron is ready. Draw it out on the anvil, and when it gets an eighth of an inch thick, bring it to me. Oh, and Bailey, use the tongs, not your bare hands.”
    McGraw’s son laughed from his bench near the forge. The younger McGraw stood half a foot shorter than Bailey and possessed forearms the size of hams and a schoolgirl giggle.
    “Reckon I deserved that.” Bailey swung the glowing iron his way and grinned as his eyes grew big. He had been so clumsy today the man had every right to worry. Positioning the iron bar on the anvil, he squeezed the tongs firmly and swung the hammer. The vibrations of the blow reverberated up his left arm. Renewing his grip, he struck again.
    Satisfying. Sometimes a man needed to work out some frustration. Bailey wasn’t a fighter, but the more he thought about Molly with Fenton, the more he could picture himself overturning tables, firing off a few rounds into the night sky, and maybe even kicking a dog. There he’d be—on the fringes of society like that no-account Michael James. If Molly married Fenton, Bailey might as well loiter outside the local saloon with Michael and harass passersby. He smiled in spite of himself, imagining the church folks’ shock. Well, he’d raise a glass to them and . . . no, he wouldn’t. Bailey possessed equal parts fear of the Lord and fear of his ma. The Lord would have the final judgment, but his ma might move up the trial date if he crossed her.
    Bailey flipped the rod and banged on the other side. Molly would wait on him. She’d want him to worry over her, sure, but she knew he was trying to do right by her. And God would reward him, too. He was finally setting out on the right path. If he wanted to be successful like Mr. Lovelace, he needed to find his place in the world. As much as he loved his own father, he didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. He didn’t want to live season to season barely squeaking by.
    The smoky air burned his lungs. He wiped his tears with his sleeve before young McGraw saw it and laughed at him again. The smithing job came available at the right time, but it might not work out after all.

    “Howdy, Prue. Quitting time already?” Mr. McGraw called.
    The young lady looked ill at ease in her olive dress, as if even the simple gown were too fine for her. She hurried to old McGraw’s side and kissed him on the cheek. “Let me change, and I’ll offer what little help I can.”
    “No hurry. Bailey is giving us a hand.”
    Prue straightened. “Then I’ll get supper on.”
    She tarried