“Get out of here, scamp, before I give you a licking.”
Tim offered him a small smile that held love and sorrow. He knew by then that Max wouldn’t lay a finger on him after the abuse he’d endured from his father. Maybe if Max were his real father, he might have suffered a walloping or two growing up, but not the kind that would have left him bruised and bloody. Both Max and Tim wished the past was different and that the other was in it.
After Tim left, Max tried to figure out what the boy could possibly be up to that he didn’t feel comfortable sharing with him. He considered trying to coax the information from Simon, but that idea was even more distasteful to him than remaining ignorant. The situation rankled him, but he decided to honor Tim’s wish to keep the information private. He worked to push it out of his mind and mostly succeeded, since his thoughts were easily filled with Charlotte and his mounting work.
*
Tim trudged along the sidewalk toward the telegraph office a few blocks from the shop, his slow steps reflecting the dread he felt about carrying out his errand. He needed to send an answer to New York regarding the college scholarship he’d been offered. The words of the telegram would either be in obedience to his father or in direct opposition, and he hadn’t yet decided which message to send.
He tensed and clenched his jaw, thinking about Simon. He feared his father and had done so since he was old enough to feel fear, and he hated him from the same age. His memories of childhood contained little else but violence and, in the absence of that, the unrelenting threat of it. His only relief from the pain and chaos was the time he spent reading alone, during which he could escape the reality of his life.
His father put up a good front in public most of the time, charming those he met with his eloquence and gentlemanly manners. While his wife and son had struggled to survive off the paltry earnings he brought home, Simon remained well-dressed, well-fed, and well-entertained as a regular at the saloon. As Tim grew older, so did his awareness of his father’s cruel neglect, but he never stood up to him, knowing that if he did, the repercussions would be severe.
Tim didn’t think much of his mother either. Although he never feared her, he viewed her as selfish and uncaring. She did nothing to protect him from his father, and she eventually abandoned him to suffer the man alone. Things only got worse after his mother left, about a year before Tim became Max’s apprentice. During that time, all of Simon’s rage focused on Tim, who reminded Simon of his wife and his failure as a husband.
Tim’s thoughts wandered to Max, and he felt a painful constriction in his chest. Nearly two years ago, after reading about apprenticeship in one of the novels he borrowed, Tim set out on the town, intent on learning a trade, any trade that would provide him with enough financial support to leave his father and live on his own when he came of age. It took every ounce of courage for him to walk into the blacksmith’s shop. He recalled the words he exchanged with Max that day. His voice shook, and he felt like his very life depended on Max saying yes to his request. Perhaps, in hindsight, it did.
“Mr. Harrison, I’m interested in learning a trade, and I wonder if I might offer my labor in exchange for your knowledge. I would be a diligent and obedient apprentice.”
Max regarded him with a confused expression. “I never really thought about taking on an apprentice, Tim. What makes you interested in blacksmithing? I always thought your father had greater plans for you.”
At the time, Max didn’t know the truth behind closed doors at Tim’s house, only the front Simon presented of himself being a highly educated man with a son who invariably scored high marks in school.
“My father is agreeable to me smithing. I’ve already asked, so you don’t need to,” Tim lied, desperation creeping into his words.
Max frowned at his response, and he didn’t agree to take him as an apprentice right away. When Tim showed up the next day, Max directed his attention to the wall of the shop. On it hung more than twenty-five tools of the trade. Max pointed at each tool and gave its name in addition to its use. When he finished speaking after some time, he asked Tim to tell him what he’d just learned.
Tim repeated the information nearly word for word, and Max’s eyes grew wide in amazement. “Sakes alive, Tim. I expected you to remember some of what I said, but you remembered everything. I reckon I’d be lucky to have you as an apprentice, though your memory might be better suited for other purposes.”
Tim felt afraid to get his hopes up. “Does that mean I can work for you, Mr. Harrison?”
“Yes. I will just need to speak with your father first, to make sure this arrangement is all right with him.”