I’d been invited to eat with them as well, which ordinarily would’ve been a good thing. I bunked here in a small structure that had once been a guest cottage, and though that cottage had a kitchen, I wasn’t much of a cook. Usually, I took any chance I could get to enjoy one of Rosanna’s meals.
But this time was different. It was Saturday, and I’d been planning to spend the whole evening with Amanda Shetler, the lovely young woman from a few districts over whom I’d been courting of late. For a while now, ever since my future as a farrier had begun to look more secure, I’d been thinking about marriage. After all, my cousin and best friend Tyler had gotten married last fall, and he seemed happier than ever. Wanting to settle down myself, a few months ago I’d started courting Amanda, who was as cute and easygoing and uncomplicated as they come. No doubt tonight’s date would’ve been lots of fun, as usual, but I had felt obligated to accept the Kinsinger’s invitation. With all they did for me, the least I could do in return was help welcome their long lost relative back into the fold. That meant a lot less time with Amanda tonight—and no time to work with Patch this afternoon at all. Amos and Rosanna were due back with Priscilla within the hour, so I needed to wrap things up for now.
Turning to Trudy, I told her I was busy for the rest of the day but that I should be able to follow up with her horse tomorrow. “If you want, you can just leave him here,” I added, “and when I have some time free in the morning, I’ll see if I can’t figure out what’s bugging him. You can check back with me in the afternoon.”
Trudy crooked an eyebrow. “I don’t…I don’t have much saved up for this.”
“That’s okay. We can just make it a part of the shoeing. No extra charge. I’ve got plenty of room in the barn for a guest tonight, so this one’s on me.”
Trudy smiled. “Ya?”
“Ya. I’m happy to do it. I want to help him. Just like you do.”
“Thank you, Jake,” she gushed.
“No problem. Of course, now we have to figure out how to get you home. Want me to see if one of Owen’s sisters can give you a ride?”
Trudy shook her head. “That’s okay. I’ve got a few stops to make along the way, so I’ll just walk. It’s only a mile or so.”
She told Patch goodbye and as an afterthought asked me if she could leave her horse cart here too.
“No, sorry,” I replied, “you’ll need to strap it on and lug it home with you.”
She looked startled for a moment, but her face broke into a grin when she realized I was kidding.
Together, Trudy and I moved the cart under the eaves of the machine shed. Then she set out on foot as I returned to the blacksmith shop. Owen had already started to hot-shoe Patch, and the air inside was smoky and acrid. Hot-shoeing smells terrible but it makes a nice indentation on the hoof for the shoe to occupy, not to mention there’s less slipping, a better fit, and a happier horse. Though some farriers might try to get away with a cold-shoeing now and then, we always hot-shoed here. That was one reason Kinsinger’s was known for quality.
Owen and I worked in tandem to finish Patch, with Owen shoeing and me tamping down the nails. We were both conscious of the time, but we wanted to finish this last job before calling it a day.
“We must smell like something that crawled out of the burn pile,” Owen said when we were finally done, four hooves and four hot-shoes later.
“Nice way to welcome family, eh? Reeking of charred horse hoof.”
Owen laughed. “Treva told me to make sure I came back to the house and got cleaned up before Priscilla’s arrival, but that’s clearly not going to happen. Hope my cousin remembers this is just the way it is. She used to spend lots of time in here, hanging around Daed when he was still doing the shoeing. So at least the stench should be familiar to her.”
I nodded, remembering Priscilla’s frequent presence in the blacksmith shop back in the day. Her father was Owen’s uncle—Amos’s brother—and she and her parents lived here on the farm. She was four years younger than I and very quiet, so we had never interacted all that much and didn’t know each other well. Then again, she’d rarely interacted with anyone. She was an odd girl, distant and moody, almost seeming to prefer the company of the farm animals to that of people.
Priscilla’s daed passed away when she was young, but she and her mamm stayed on here after he died, living in the smaller house that now served as home to Owen, Treva, and their new baby. My little guest cottage had been a tourist rental back then, and from what I could recall, Priscilla’s mother, Nancy, had been the one in charge of operating it.
Then, when Priscilla was just fourteen, Nancy died a tragic death. After that, though Priscilla’s grandparents and cousins surrounded her with love and care, she had seemed to grow odder still. Eventually, she’d been sent off to Ohio to live with relatives there. I was never completely sure why she left. For that matter, I didn’t know why she was coming back now either.
As Owen and I put our tools away, I asked him about the reason for her return.