To Win Her Heart
Spencer didn’t back down. “So your intentions are honorable, then?”
“They are.”
The man stared him full in the face for several seconds, then, apparently having satisfied himself, nodded once and stepped back. “Very well. I’ll be expecting your call in the morning, Mr. Grant. Eden informed me of her plans to visit one of the quarry families after breakfast, so you’ll have ample time to convince me of your . . . intentions before she returns.”
“I’ll be here,” Levi bit out.
“Be where?”
Levi spun around at the sound of Eden’s voice and swallowed hard. “Here,” he repeated, offering no further explanation.
She gave him an odd look but continued down the stairs, as lovely in dark blue calico as she had been in red silk. As he looked at her, some of the tension drained from his neck and shoulders. His mouth curved up in appreciation of her beauty, her heart, her spirit. This was a woman worth fighting for.
Eden glanced his way as she descended the final two stairs, and a smile broke out across her face. It beamed with joy and hinted at a future, a future he longed to share. Levi extended his arm and led her toward the hall. She stopped to kiss her father’s cheek and assure him she wouldn’t be gone long. As she collected her bonnet from the hall tree, Levi met eyes with Calvin Spencer one last time. But this time he was the one issuing the nonverbal challenge, making it clear that he would go to any lengths necessary to win Eden’s heart. Even beard the lion in his den.
The next morning, Levi watched for Eden’s buggy from the door of his shop, and once she passed on her way to the Dalton residence, he donned his Sunday coat and ran his fingers through his dampened hair. He stood in the doorway, staring down the street for a minute, and then inhaled a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh.
He’d debated for a long time last night whether or not to write out his intentions. It would be easier to present an eloquent argument, and he wouldn’t have to constantly worry about lisping like a toddler in front of the man who had the power to deny him Eden’s hand. But after praying and wrestling with the idea, he decided to forgo the paper. While he wanted to put his best foot forward, he also wanted to stand like a man.
Something nudged his leg. Levi reached down and patted Ornery’s head, thankful for the support. He rubbed the fur around the dog’s ears and patted his side. “If I’m not back by noon, boy, you might have to fetch the cavalry.”
Ornery pulled away and gave his head a shake. Levi snorted. “No? Fine friend you are.”
The dog barked a reprimand and padded off to the rear of the shop, leaving Levi with no excuse to dawdle.
As he made his way to the library, several people nodded to him or called out a greeting when he passed, their cheerful demeanor lending him confidence. The people of Spencer were coming to accept him. Maybe it wasn’t so implausible to think that Eden’s father might, too.
Verna showed him in when he arrived and led him to a study at the back of the house that he’d never seen before. Mr. Spencer sat behind a large oak desk . . . in Levi’s chair. The man had removed it from the reading room and placed it in his study. Of course, it was his chair to do with as he wished, but when he looked up from his papers and leaned back against the smooth leather with a satisfied grin curving his mouth, Levi had no doubt that Eden’s father understood the significance of the chair and was using it to gain the upper hand.
The man was only being protective of his daughter. Yet Levi couldn’t help wishing the fellow would cease toying with him.
Calvin Spencer stood and gestured toward the smaller chair in front of the desk, his smile warm, his eyes several degrees cooler. “Have a seat, Mr. Grant. I’ve been looking forward to this meeting.”
Levi did as he was told, folding his sizable frame between the arms of a cushioned chair better suited to a woman like Eden than a man of his bulk. Verna excused herself and closed the door behind her, leaving him alone in the lion’s den.
“My daughter speaks highly of you, Mr. Grant—as do many of the council members I paid calls on yesterday evening.” Spencer returned to his seat, the leather creaking as he sat. He rested his left elbow on the upholstered arm and tapped a finger against his temple while his gaze bored into Levi’s. “They tell me you run an honest shop and that your work is of admirable quality.”
Levi blinked, the compliment catching him off guard. “Thank . . . thank you.”
“Dave Cranford mentioned that you attend services regularly and that your heroic actions at the quarry this week helped save two lives.”
“I . . . ah . . .”
Spencer’s hand dropped away from his face, and his smile disappeared as he slanted forward in his chair. “You may be a decent blacksmith and handy to have around in an emergency, but what makes you think you are worthy of courting my daughter?”
“I’m not.”
The man’s eyes widened a bit at the simple statement, and Levi figured if he was ever going to take control of this interview, it would have to be now.
“Eden . . .” is the finest . . . Levi cleared his throat and searched for better words. “I’ve never admired a woman more than I admire your daughter. Her warm heart, her quick mind and love of literature, her nurturing nature, her devotion to the Lord. Even if my former life were irreproachable, I doubt I would be worthy of her.”
“So, I take it your former life is not irreproachable?” Spencer rubbed his thumb along the edge of the desk in that deceptively casual way of his that Levi recognized for what it was—camouflage for an approaching strike. Nevertheless, Levi met his gaze straight on. He had no plans to hide anything from Eden’s father.
“I aimed my life in a poor direction a while back. Turned away from the trade my father taught me and took up prizefighting. Liked the money and the . . . approval it afforded. Had an undefeated record. Then a fellow came up to the line one day, talking big. Looked drunk, but I took him on anyway. Another fellow, a brother, I think, tried to pull the man away, but when the bell rang, he came at me, and I fought. He took a hit or two on the chin and began wavering. I gave him the option to quit, but he came at me again. I walloped him hard, thinking to put a quick end to it. He went down and never got up.
“A judge found me guilty of man—” He swallowed the rest of the word. “I did time, a two-year term, much of that in a labor camp. While I broke rock there, though, God broke me. I realized how my rebellion had led to a man . . . dying. And to the forfeit of everything that truly mattered in my life.”
Levi paused and tried to gauge Calvin Spencer’s expression, but the man was hard to read. He asked no questions, just sat there absorbing his words. Levi shifted in his chair, then continued.
“I repented and turned back to the faith my mother and father had brought me up on. Made a vow before the Lord to abandon fighting and to help people rather than hurt them. After being . . . granted my freedom, the Lord led me here. To a new life. An honorable life.”
“And to Eden?” Her father threw down the question like a gauntlet, daring Levi to take it up.
Levi didn’t hesitate. Holding Mr. Spencer’s gaze, he nodded. “And to Eden.”
The man’s mouth did that nearly imperceptible lift again, but before Levi could decipher its meaning, Eden’s father attacked from another angle.
“I’ve informed my daughter that her allowance will cease should she choose to wed. She will no longer have access to my financial accounts at the bank or at any of the local businesses. You will not be courting an heiress, Mr. Grant.”
Levi had suspected the topic of money would come up, knowing Calvin Spencer’s history with Eden’s previous suitor. What he hadn’t anticipated was the ferocity of his reaction to the man’s insinuation. He clenched the arms of his chair until the wood bit painfully into his fingers.
“The man . . . lucky enough to marry Eden will be the rich . . . will be rich beyond imagination. And it will have nothing to do with her bank account.” Rejecting the chair arms, Levi shot to
his feet and planted his palms on the highly polished desktop. “I aim to provide for a wife like a man ought. I wouldn’t take your money even if you offered it.”
“So you say.” The man’s unflappable expression set Levi’s teeth on edge. “I simply wished to make my position clear to avoid any miscommunication.”
Levi turned away from the desk and strode toward the back wall. He stood staring at a painting of a bowl of fruit that probably cost more than he could earn in a year. Would Eden willingly sacrifice all the comforts she had known in order to be with him? He’d dreamed of the two of them as husband and wife, but until the reality of this moment, he hadn’t really considered what all she’d be forced to sacrifice.
He could build her a little house out by her field of flowers, just like they’d talked about. They wouldn’t have opulence, but they’d have the necessities. And love. They hadn’t actually spoken the words, but he was sure he’d seen it in her eyes. That would be enough, wouldn’t it?
As the apples and grapes blurred on the canvas before him, Levi replayed that conversation in his mind, the one when he and Eden had walked side by side through her field. She’d not wanted anything large, just a cozy cabin she’d said. With a plate-glass window. It might be a few years before he could afford that, but he’d manage it eventually.
However, there was one treasure he couldn’t manage, one that she’d be lost without. And the only way to save it would be to relinquish a good deal of his pride.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Eden returned from the Dalton home tired but in good spirits. Helen Dalton had been in the midst of packing and was grateful to have someone to entertain her daughter while she worked. The family had decided to move in with an aunt who lived over in Travis County and they were busy consolidating their belongings.
Amelia, Helen’s daughter, showed Eden the path to the creek and the two spent a full hour sitting in the shade of a sweet-gum tree, reading stories and looking at pictures. The girl had climbed right up into Eden’s lap without a qualm, and Eden’s heart had promptly melted.
After their story time, Eden had offered Amelia and her older brothers the cookies Verna had sent and volunteered to pack up Helen’s dishes and kitchen supplies while the other woman helped her boys go through her late husband’s tools.
It had felt good to be needed, useful. And spending time reading to a child again brought back precious memories that soothed her spirit with bittersweet warmth. Perhaps she could resume her story hours in the library one day. Or even have children of her own to read to. The thought made her catch her breath as she guided the buggy toward the shed behind her house. A month ago, she wouldn’t have allowed herself to consider such a possibility. But now? Now she couldn’t seem to stop hope from taking root. It sprouted like a defiant weed, tenacious and wild and beautiful as it blossomed.
When she pulled into her yard, Harvey met her at the shed and handed her down. She left him to see to the horse and crossed to the back porch, stripping off her driving gloves as she went. The savory aroma of Verna’s vegetable soup met her at the kitchen door, sending a rumble through Eden’s stomach.
“It smells delicious in here.” Eden pulled her bonnet from her head and set it and her gloves on the table as she passed by on her way to the stove. She leaned over Verna’s shoulder and peeked in the pot she was stirring. “Did you make corn muffins, too?”
“Nope,” Verna said. “Chloe did.” The woman’s proud smile would rival that of any natural mother. “They’re in the oven now. Need about ten more minutes, so you got time to freshen up.”
Eden turned to collect her things, but Chloe reached them first. “I’ll put those up for you, Miss Eden.”
“How sweet, Chloe. Thank you.” She moved to hold the door open. “I can’t wait to try those muffins of yours. I’m sure they’ll be wonderful.”
The girl shyly lowered her lashes as she sidled past, but nothing could hide her grin.
“Maybe if there are some left over, you can walk them down to the boardinghouse to share with Duncan.”
Chloe’s face lit up at that, the eagerness in her eyes tempting Eden to laugh.
Her step and heart light, she traipsed through the library behind Chloe, then peeled off toward the stairs. Before she reached them, however, a movement to her left brought her to a halt.
Her father was lugging his leather chair back to the reading room. “I thought you told Harvey to put that in your study last night.”
“I did,” he huffed, straining under the load. “But I no longer require its use, so I thought I’d return it.” With a loud exhalation, he dropped the chair into the corner where Eden had set it up for Levi. She certainly didn’t begrudge her father the use of his own chair, but she’d come to associate it with Levi of late and had missed seeing it when she came down for breakfast.
Her father leaned against the chair frame, resting a bent arm across the top. “Mr. Grant came to see me while you were out.”
Eden’s pulse skittered. “Oh?”
“Wanted to gain my permission to court you.”
Eden lunged toward her father and clutched his free hand. “You gave it, didn’t you?”
“Eventually.”
“Daddy.” The word came out like a moan. Eden flopped into the chair and looked up at the man who had always been her champion. “Please tell me you did not try to bribe him to leave.” Hurt, embarrassment, and not a little fear twined together in her midsection.
“Until you marry, it’s my job to protect you, Eden.” He chucked her under the chin, like he had when she’d been a girl, and some of her irritation dissipated. “Every day I deal with men who want something from me—political advancement, financial backing, information, social advantage. I’ve learned how to mine a man for the truth. And when it comes to the future of my only daughter, I use sharper methods and dig twice as deep before I’m satisfied.”
“Did . . .” Eden squirmed in her seat. “Did Levi satisfy you?”
“For now.” His mouth didn’t curve, but his eyes twinkled the way they did when he surprised her at Christmas with an unexpected gift.
Eden grinned and clutched her father’s hand, suddenly feeling gossamer light, as if she would float to the ceiling if she didn’t hang on to something. “Oh, Daddy. I just knew the two of you would get on well together!”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” he said with a quiet chuckle. “Right now he probably thinks I’m a devil sent to torture him. You should have seen how incensed he became when I made it clear that he would have to provide for you without the benefit of my money. He gripped the chair arms so hard I thought they were going to snap. It’s no wonder the man was undefeated as a fighter. He’s fierce.”
“But always under control.” A vivid image of Levi’s restraint when the drunkard had attacked him played in Eden’s mind. “He’s vowed never to fight again, and I believe him, Daddy. I’ve seen him provoked and not defend himself. It’s a promise unto the Lord, and he won’t break it.”
“I think you’re right,” her father said. “When you told me about his past last night and all the violence that had surrounded him, I didn’t understand how you could love such a man. But now I’m starting to see. Your blacksmith was completely forthright about his past, giving me all the details without my having to ask. He spoke of you with admiration and respect, and I sensed deep feelings behind his faltering words. He even swallowed his pride and asked that I allow you to keep operating the library, knowing how much you love it. Offered to rent the reading room from me—and knowing what I do about his bank account, that was no paltry offer.
“Levi Grant is an honorable man. You’ve chosen well, daughter.”
Eden couldn’t help agreeing with her father’s assessment as she stole glances at Levi from across the churchyard the following afternoon at the auction. Dozens of townspeople and area ranchers milled about, looking over the items that would be up for bid later, but Eden had eyes only for her blacksmith. He stood chatting
with Claude Barnes near the side of the church. She was supposed to be cutting the cakes the Aid ladies had brought to sell for a penny a slice, but her hand hovered uselessly above Bertha Springer’s chocolate one as her gaze strayed.
How was it that he seemed to grow more handsome the longer she knew him? Did love actually alter one’s perception? It must, for where she once saw a hulking brute, she now saw a gentle warrior—one whose arms could bend iron yet hold her with such tenderness she never wanted to leave his embrace.
She hadn’t felt that embrace in far too long. Eden bit her bottom lip as she surveyed the breadth of his chest. What she wouldn’t give to lay her head in that spot beneath his chin, to close her eyes as his strong arms drew her close, to tangle her fingers in the hair at his nape, to . . .
Her gaze lifted to find his lips but instead collided with gray eyes that were looking directly at her. Levi’s jaw lolled open a bit, as if he’d been in the middle of a sentence when he caught her ogling him. Heat climbed up Eden’s neck and into her cheeks, but she couldn’t look away, not when he was staring at her with such intimate intensity. Then the edges of his mouth bent up, and a different kind of warmth spread through her. She ducked her head and returned her attention to the cake, but her pulse beat so erratically, her hand shook as she pressed the knife into the icing.
Eden had successfully cut three slices and had nearly banished her unsteadiness when a loud thump reverberated across the table, causing the planks to wobble and her body to flinch. Heart skittering, she glanced toward the sound and found a man’s hand, tan and long fingered, slapped flat against the wood. The hand slid back to reveal a copper coin.
“I’ll take a piece of that.”
The familiar voice brought Eden’s head up, a forced smile locked into place. “Sheriff Pratt. Enjoying the festivities?”