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— so that it would blow a deep breath over the coals.
    “Back off a bit, son. That’s good. Coax the fire — don’t force it,” said Jacob.
    Gabriel turned the iron bar now and again until it glowed a devilish white. He rested the iron at a sharp angle against the face of the anvil, making sure to keep his hand firm so that no light, air, or heat could escape. Then Gabriel hammered the end, drawing the iron out long and thin. When the plain bar felt the weight of a nail to him, he used a small wedge to mark the cut and hammered until the thin piece fell away; then he set about turning the iron sliver into a sharp nail.
    Clang, clang, clang. Ping. Clang, clang, clang. Ping. Gabriel hammered out the tip with an even, steady pace, never missing his mark except on every fourth strike, to settle the hammer in his left palm. Even when Gabriel’s hands started to cramp from gripping the hammer and the iron, he kept on heating, turning, hammering, and setting the shape with water.
    Soon, four edges emerged. With great patience, he drew out an even square. When the square met with his satisfaction, Gabriel pressed one edge hard against the anvil. With perfect pacing, his hammer drew forth a perfect tine tip. Then he slipped the nail through the pritchel hole at the anvil’s heel, upsetting the iron into an almost-square nail head. After giving it a final dip in the water, Gabriel presented the nail to Jacob.
    The master blacksmith shook his head. “Know smiths who’ve worked for years — smiths been on their own for a good long while — who still can’t hammer so well.” Jacob took the nail from Gabriel, heated it, and smoothed the metal clean. This was how Gabriel learned — by doing what needed doing and presenting the work to Jacob.
    When a farmer from Varina, east of the city, brought in scrap metal to sell or trade — for Jacob Kent believed everything could be reused — Gabriel stood near the teacher to learn all he could about the properties of old steel or iron. When the governor’s aide brought His Excellency’s steed for shoeing, Gabriel knew to stack the old shoes in the great pile for melting and repurposing later.
    What he loved most about the forge, though, was that Jacob and his customers were patriots. Even more than Gabriel enjoyed swimming or fishing in the James River, he craved the bold talk of the men who filled the dark smithy. While visitors to the forge brought with them new problems to solve, they also often brought new thoughts on the building of America or the spreading of freedom.
    All sorts of men gathered there. Artisans, black and white, free and slave, used the forge as a sort of trading place. When coopers and carpenters stopped in to have their tools sharpened or repaired, they borrowed and bartered in the smithy yard while they waited. Bonded hammermen spent short residencies in the forge, too, whenever Jacob needed help with big jobs — such as anchors or chains for ships in port. Free black men searching for work by the river counted on Jacob for odd jobs. All of these men and their business at the forge kept Pa’s spirit present and constant before Gabriel.
    Gabriel and Solomon grew into fine blacksmiths, and each brother made what he could from the trade. Smithing soothed Solomon’s worried mind into a still and easeful peace. Hammering set Gabriel’s active mind afire.

GABRIEL WORKED his anvil in the spot nearest the door so that he could see and hear everything. Richmond was growing from a small town into a global port, and all the while, the wildfire of liberty jumped across the oceans from nation to nation. Patrons with jobs for the smithy or simply with mouths to run and hours to fill rendezvoused daily at the forge to debate and argue and persuade. Local artisans spoke longingly of the ongoing political upheaval in France, while country planters and city merchants whispered fearfully of the revolution on Saint Domingue. In Virginia, the planters and merchants had led