Chapter 3

The next morning, Mort and Special Deputy Mike Williams walked down Front Street towards the blacksmith shop. Mike was nervous. Slim and Jess had told him over and over again to avoid the barn area when either man was working the forge. Jess, particularly, was adamant in his warnings. When he asked Slim for an explanation, all Slim said was that it had to do with something that happened a long time ago to Jess and it was his story to tell. Slim also warned Mike not to push Jess to talk about it.

"James is looking forward to showing you around his shop, Mike," Mort told him. "Don't worry, it's so early that he hasn't started to work so there's no fire built yet."

Mike nodded, relief in his eyes. Mort put his hand protectively on his small shoulder as they continued walking down the street.

"Sheriff Mort, do you like living in Laramie?"

Mort nodded. "I do," he said. "The people are friendly and everyone just wants to live in peace. Oh, we do have some people who are not nice, but for the most part, they all believe in hard work and helping each other."

"Do you like living on the ranch?" Mort asked.

Mike shrugged. "Yeah," he said. "The only other place I lived was on a wagon so not having to move all the time is nice and besides Slim and Jess are really good to me."

"How so?"

"Well, the first time we came to town was a couple of days after I came to the ranch. Slim and Jess realized that I didn't have any other clothes since they all burned in the fire." The memory of the events was still alive and very real to him. Some nights, he could almost smell smoke and feel the flames. He hadn't told Slim about it, but somehow Jess knew but he never said anything about it.

"What did they buy you?"

"Well, Slim and Jess took me to the general store and Slim ordered me new boots from a catalogue. Jess found me some jeans and there were shirts on a counter which I tried on and picked this one. See, it's blue like Jess'. My night shirt once belonged to Andy, that's Slim's brother, along with his socks. Oh, and Jess ordered me a hat."

"Sounds like they got you all fitted out."

Mike nodded. Both men had been really good to him.

"Here we are, Mike," Mort spoke suddenly.

Mike peered into the building. He fought the urge to grab Sheriff Mort's hand. It probably wouldn't look good for a Special Deputy to look afraid. The shop, near the end of town, was one room with double doors front and back. A whole team of horses and a buckboard could pass through.

The blacksmith, James, stood in the middle of the room. The early morning sun shone through the one window and warmed the space.

"Hello again, Mike." James ran a hand through his curly brown hair and then held it out to shake Mike's hand. "Welcome to my shop."

Mike shook his hand. "What's that?" he asked, looking at the strange contraption.

"Well, those are called bellows. See right here is where the coals are." He noticed Mike tense up and spoke gently, "everything is cold now, see?" He picked up some coal pieces and handed them out to Mike who took them turning them over and over again in his hands.

"Every morning I heat up the coals and I use the bellows to fan the air through them. The pieces of iron are put into the coals using this," he showed Mike the tongs. "When the metal becomes soft enough to shape, I take it out and use a hammer and a chisel on the anvil. Then I put the metal in water."

Mike was fascinated. He had been following the simple explanations with rapt attention. "Slim has an anvil and a hammer too," he said proudly. "He makes horse shoes and fixes the stage coaches."

James nodded. "Well, I make horse shoes, along with tools, utensils, cooking items, farm equipment and parts for guns."

"Slim or Jess wear gloves when they work the forge," Mike looked around as if he was challenging the blacksmith.

"I wear a heavy leather apron. It's made of cowhide. I also have a pair of sturdy boots and a belt. My gloves are kept in my pockets. Sometimes I don't use my gloves at all."

Mike's eyes opened in surprise. "Don't your hands get hurt?"

"Some of the things I make are very small and I need to feel the metal. Believe it or not, I make nails and some of the files that I use in making horse shoes."

"Really?* Mike's hands itched to hold a horse shoe.

Somehow, James sensed his excitement. "Would you like to help me make a horse shoe? Don't worry, you won't be near the fire."

Mike nodded eagerly and James put a piece of cowhide around Mike's waist. He had him sit down on the stool near the front door. Mort, who had been virtually ignored, laid a hand on his shoulder and said "I'll be back. Have fun."

"Mike, do you know why we put horse shoes on horses?

"Slim says horse shoes are like boots for us - they protect their hooves from hard rocks on the roads or rivers."

"That's right, Mike. I bet you didn't know that there are different types of horse shoes depending on the brand and the front hooves on some horses can be different from the back ones."

"That's why we have so many and Slim and Jess are always repairing them!" Mike exclaimed.

"Yup," James smiled. "So, what's wrong with this one?" He held up a horse shoe and handed it to Mike.

Mike looked at it closely. "It's uneven," he said with conviction. "Slim or Jess would make it flatter with a file."

"That's right. Now, come over here and help me with this horse." They picked up the horse's right leg and Mike saw the bare hoof.

"Now, I cleaned out his hoof or what you would call his foot if he were a person," James said to the young boy. "We're going to nail the shoe onto his foot with these nails and with this hammer."

"Won't it hurt him?" Mike asked concerned for the beautiful bay that stood patiently beside them.

"He doesn't have any nerves in his foot Mike. Here, watch." James nailed on the shoe and then patted the horse's neck affectionately.

"Thanks for your help, Special Deputy."

Mike smiled proudly. He couldn't wait to tell Slim and Jess. He now knew how important the forge was to the relay station and could help Slim or Jess when they needed it.

Later that afternoon, Mike found himself in Benson's General Store. Mort gave him a piece of paper and a brand-new pencil and a challenge. "If you're going to make sure that nothing is stolen from the general store, you need to know what they sell besides shirts, pants, belts and candy sticks," he had said seriously.

Jed gave Mike an apron and Miss Marcie led him around the store so he could write down everything they sold. Mike was determined to get everything right and know where everything was kept.

"Right near where we sit in front on this long counter we have tobacco, cigars, soaps, spices and candy jars. We have the cash register over there and we have the wrapping paper, scissors and string at the end of the counter." Marcie smiled while she watched Mike write everything down.

"Where do you think we have clothes?" she asked him.

Mike remembered where Jess had found his shirts. "Over there," he pointed to the cases, and then asked "why do you have boys' jeans and shirts mixed in with the men clothes?"

"Why do you think!" Marcie wanted to know if Slim was right. He had told her that Mike was smart and could figure things out faster than most children his age.

Mike smiled at the silly question. "It would be wrong to put clothes with anything else. Besides, if someone like Jess came in and wanted to buy a blue shirt, you would be able to tell him where to look."

All Marcie could do was nod. "We not only put clothes together. Over there," she pointed to a wall opposite them. "are buggy whips, horse harnesses, ropes. Over there on the counter we have guns and cartridges in a bin. Near the back of the store, we have the post office with that window."

Mike continued writing furiously. His head was swimming. So many things for sale. 'He could spend a whole day here and not see everything' he thought to himself. "Miss Marcie," he asked, "do you sell toys?"

Marcie grinned and led Mike to the glass counter near the front of the store. Mike saw his very first harmonica and a set of wooden soldiers. There were sets of glass beads and buttons for girls too.

"We just got a new shipment of candy yesterday. Would you like to see it? "Jed pushed the sack closer to Mike. He peered inside. It looked like a bag of rocks. "Are you sure this is candy?" He asked them both. He didn't want to be rude but this did not look anything like the sweet smelling, tasteful treat he had after supper .

"It's rock candy, Mike. You take little bits of it and suck on it."

'Ah, that made sense' Mike thought to himself. "Are you going to sell it in glass jars like the lemon and peppermint drops?"

Jed looked over at Mike. "Are you sure you want to be a rancher, Mike? You've got some great ideas!" He winked at Marcie.

Mike blushed and then noticed the back door. "What's behind that door, Miss Marcie?"

"That's the store room. We keep blankets, scales and scoops, barrels of nails and chicken feed, flour and salt sacks, coffee and occasionally, a rancher. "

Mike quickly caught the last part of her sentence and saw the two of them laughing. "Be sure and ask Slim about the time he hid back there, Mike. He was a hero that day."

"Saved the town too and stole your heart," Jed added.

Mort came into the store just then and led Mike out to an early supper. Mike dreamt of candy sticks bouncing in saddle bags all night long.