She Asked the Gunsmith to Wed Her Before Her Uncle Sold Her Land — “I’ll Want to Court You After,” the Gunsmith Said
Chapter 2
Samuel Hart had never expected to marry.
He had expected to work.
That was all.
His father had taught him the gunsmith’s trade in a small town across the river.
Samuel had learned to shape walnut stocks, fit locks, temper springs, polish barrels, repair flint mechanisms, and understand the difference between a weapon that looked beautiful and one that could actually be trusted.
His hands were scarred from the work.
A burn across his left wrist.
A white line near his thumb.
A small crescent-shaped mark above his knuckle.
Margaret had noticed every one.
She had known Samuel since childhood.
Their families had traded together.
Her father had bought hunting rifles from him.
Samuel had repaired the old musket Margaret’s father carried during his last years.
But Samuel had always considered himself outside her world.
The Vale family owned land.
He owned a shop.
They had fields.
He had anvils.
They had servants.
He had a room above the workshop.
Margaret had never seemed to care.
Her uncle did.
Thomas Vale had never hidden his opinion.
“A tradesman should remember his place,” he once told Samuel.
Samuel had remembered.
He had simply never agreed.
Now, less than an hour after Margaret left his shop, Samuel locked the front door.
He took the marriage license.
Then he went to see Reverend Elias Moore.
The minister listened without interrupting.
“You are certain?”
“Yes.”
“And Miss Vale?”
“She asked.”
The reverend raised an eyebrow.
“She asked you?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps I should speak with her.”
“You won’t have time.”
“Why?”
“Her uncle intends to sell the property tomorrow.”
The reverend sighed.
“Thomas Vale has been trouble since the day I met him.”
Samuel placed the license on the desk.
“Can you marry us tonight?”
The reverend looked at him.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“You understand the consequences?”
“Yes.”
“You may be binding yourself to a woman who does not love you.”
Samuel was silent.
Then he said:
“She promised to court me afterward.”
The reverend stared.
Then he laughed.
“Perhaps she already does.”
Samuel did not answer.
Because that possibility frightened him more than the marriage itself.
An hour later, Margaret arrived at the church.
She wore a plain brown cloak.
No jewelry.
No flowers.
No family.
Only a small Bible tucked beneath her arm.
Samuel stood beside the altar.
Reverend Moore looked between them.
“Do you both understand that marriage is not a bargain that can simply be undone?”
Margaret answered first.
“Yes.”
Samuel looked at her.
“Yes.”
The ceremony was brief.
When the reverend pronounced them husband and wife, Margaret’s hands trembled.
Samuel reached for them.
Her fingers were cold.
He held them gently.
“We’re married,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
She looked nervous.
Samuel smiled.
“You said you would court me after.”
She gave him a tiny smile.
“I remember.”
Outside, thunder rolled over the valley.
Samuel looked toward the church doors.
Rain had begun.
He wondered whether the storm was the only thing coming.
