Mail Order Roslyn

by Zina Abbott

  Roslyn set the hot biscuits—some spread with strawberry preserves, others containing chunks of ham inside—on the table. “Mr. Peterson needs to see a doctor about his bullet wound. Since, from what I understand, no doctor lives in Ellsworth, we must put him on the stagecoach and take him east to one. Do you know if a doctor located in either Salina or Abilene?”

  The men looked at each other before turning back at her. The sergeant shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard of as far as Salina goes. As for Abilene, it’s still pretty much a few businesses and the stagecoach stations. They don’t have one. There might be one in Junction City.”

  Roslyn sighed in resignation. “We’ll have to take him there. I imagine his wife will go with him. If you’d like, since we have no other passengers, we can take your two injured men with us, too. Assuming I recall correctly, once we arrive in Junction City, Fort Riley is only a few miles away.”

  A look of disbelief on his face, Eustace leaned toward Roslyn. “What do you think you’re talking about, Mrs. Welsh? In case you haven’t figured it out, Isaac’s laid up. He can’t drive. Neither Tom nor Jim can drive a four-in-hand team, or Isaac would have told them to apply for the driver position so he could stay at the station. As for me, back home, I mostly rode horses. When I did take a carriage, it was usually pulled by a pair and driven by a sla…uh…by a servant. I probably could drive the coach, but –”

  Roslyn cut him off. “But you’re needed here to run the station, Eustace. Who knows how long before Isaac is well enough to return?”

  Eustace exhaled and nodded. “You’re right. That still doesn’t answer the question of who is going to drive.” He shook his head. “He can’t leave tomorrow. We’ll have to wait until Benny arrives here Tuesday and send him back Wednesday.”

  “That’s too long. If we wait until then, it will be Thursday before he can see a doctor. Same for the two soldiers. Blood poisoning could set in by then and kill them. The stagecoach needs to leave with them on board tomorrow morning.”

  The sergeant shook his head. “Ma’am, the stagecoach needs a military escort, or it isn’t going anywhere.”

  Eyebrows raised, Roslyn turned to the sergeant. “Sir, I understand the coaches going west require a military escort. The coach tomorrow is going east. It’s never had a military escort.”

  “It does now. According to the lieutenant, after what happened today, until things die down and we know the Cheyenne have left the area, the stagecoaches to and from Ellsworth need a military escort, at least as far as Spring Creek Station.”

  Roslyn dipped her head and answered slowly. “All right. Then, you tell your lieutenant that the stagecoach will leave at 9:00 o’clock in the morning, tomorrow. We will happily take your wounded along with Mr. Peterson, as long as your other soldier is here by nine o’clock. We will welcome a military escort—if one shows up on time. However, if no one is here by the time for us to go, we will leave without them.”

  “We?” Eustace walked over next to Roslyn and folded his arms. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “On the stagecoach. I’m not staying here.”

  Eustace shook his head. “No. I can understand Mrs. Peterson going with her husband, but you don’t need to go. With her gone, we’ll need you here to cook and take care of the passengers that come to the station.”

  Roslyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She reopened them and her gaze met Eustace’s. “I can’t do that to Emmy, not after what happened today. I’m not willing to live someplace where I’m constantly faced with the choice of either smothering my daughter to death, or letting her fall into the hands of enemies who might make an innocent child suffer out of revenge. I have to get her away from here.”

  “That will put us in a bind, Mrs. Welsh. None of the rest of us know how to cook.”

  Danny leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “Eustace, you could marry Lorena. She seems nice enough, and you spend enough time in town with her after you get paid.”

  Eustace turned to Danny with a gimlet eye. “Where I come from, gentlemen might spend time with a woman like Lorena, but they don’t marry those kinds of women.” He spoke as if explaining a difficult concept to a child.

  Danny shrugged. “She’s from the South, too, Eustace. Like you, a lot of Southern women have fallen on hard times because of the war. Find out if she can cook. If she can, you could do worse than her.”

  Eustace turned away with a grunt and shook his head. “Mrs. Welsh, we still have one burning reason that prevents that coach from leaving this station. We have no one who can drive it.”

  Before she spoke, Roslyn stared at Eustace and waited until she held his full attention. “Yes, we do. I’m driving the stagecoach.”

  Roslyn sensed every man in that room straighten and turn their focus on her. Even the injured soldier set aside his misery long enough to study her.

  Elam rose from his seat on the bench and, wearing his usual stoic expression, stared from across the table.

  Eustace’s eyes rounded and his jaw dropped. He started to laugh, but it turned into a choke instead. “No, you can’t. What makes you think you’re able to drive that stagecoach?”

  “Eustace, we hitch four equines to that stagecoach. I know how to drive a four-in-hand team.”

  Eustace shook his head. “No…”

  Roslyn glanced at Elam. His face expressionless, his eyes filled with concern focused on her. Hush your mouth, Elam Stewart. Don’t say a word, and don’t try to stop me.

  Roslyn settled her gaze on Eustace once more. Her back teeth clenched, she jammed her fists on her hips. “Yes, I can. I was raised in a livery, Eustace. My pa made sure both my brother and I could drive a four-in-hand team. He rented out wagons and buggies with teams. Sometimes, those who rented the wagons wanted a driver to go with it. Sometimes, they hired the wagon for a job, and when it was finished, they paid extra to have one of us come pick up the wagon and team and drive them back to the livery.”

  “A wagon is not the same as a stagecoach.”

  Roslyn rolled her eyes and huffed. “So, the driver’s box on the stagecoach is a little higher than on a wagon. The harness and leads for the team work the same. The brake works the same. I can, and I will, drive that stagecoach tomorrow, Eustace. Isaac’s life might depend on it.”

  Eustace slammed his fist on the table. “The B.O.D. did not hire you as a driver.”

  “They hired me as a stock tender. I am an employee. They just don’t know the person named Ross they hired is a woman. Besides, Eustace, they didn’t hire Isaac as a driver, either. He’s a stationmaster. Yet, for months now, they’ve been paying him to drive the stagecoach.” She whipped her hand up to signal him to halt further objections. “And don’t try to claim I don’t have the right clothes to do the job, because you know I do.”

  She paused. In the staring contest between her and Eustace that followed, Roslyn refused to be the first to look away. She softened her voice. “It will work out, Eustace. I’ll take Beelzebub and Josie as my wheelers. The other two mares can be my lead pair. When we arrive in Junction City, either I or Isaac can tell the division agent he needs to get more stock out to you to replace what we lost.”

  Eustace looked down and shook his head. “I’m still of the opinion, Mrs. Welsh, this is not a good idea.”

  “It is a good idea, Eustace. The lives of three people might depend on it. Plus, there’s Emmy I must think about. I have to get her away from the kind of danger we faced today. At least, with Caroline along, I’ll have someone to help me with her.”

  Resignation in his voice, Eustace sighed and looked over to Elam. “What about you, Stewart? Will you be staying around, or are you deserting me, too?”

  Elam slowly turned his head and focused his gaze on Eustace. “You best work out something with the fort to send you some soldiers for guarding this place. If Mrs. Welsh is of a mind to drive the stagecoach, I don’t aim to stop her. But, seeing as how them Cheyenne are still around, she ain’t get
ting in that driver’s box unless I’m up there next to her.”

  “Huh? Wait a minute. I’m the shotgun messenger, not you. I’m the one up top with the driver.”

  Everyone in the room turned their attention to Danny.

  Elam nodded to Danny. “Ain’t got no issue with you doing your job. There’s room up there for three. Just so you figure on me and my Spencer being next to her.”

  Roslyn felt a warmth course through her. He’s not holding me back or telling me I can’t do it. He’s still willing to be someone I can count on.

  Grateful Elam chose to come with her, Roslyn glanced around the room. As she studied each face, she wondered if everyone there had the same question on their mind she did. With his wooden leg, could Elam climb up to the driver’s box?

  Roslyn turned to the sergeant. Ignoring the look of disgust on his face, she smiled. “Sir, please tell your escort, if they arrive a few minutes early, I’ll have some biscuits with ham ready.”

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  Chapter 17

  ~o0o~

  Between Ellsworth and Spring Creek Stations, Kansas

  June 18, 1866

  W ith a certain sense of satisfaction, Roslyn watched the escort patrol enter the station yard ten minutes before nine. Five men rode in on horseback. Three soldiera sat in the back of the Army supply wagon behind the driver. She noticed the forearm of one was wrapped with bandages to make it appear double its size. She grabbed two plates heaped with biscuits and ham and carried them over to the waiting soldiers. With all the food claimed, she returned the plates to the station kitchen.

  Roslyn turned at the groans coming from Isaac as, with his uninjured arm over Jim’s shoulder, he hobbled out the building toward the stagecoach. His face flushed, and beads of sweat dripped from his temples. Her forehead creased with worry lines, Caroline supported his injured side with her arm wrapped around Isaac’s waist as she walked him outside.

  Upon hearing a squeal from Emmy, Roslyn hurried to the storage room bedroom she had called home for more than six weeks. She played with her daughter long enough to coax a smile. She picked up Emmy’s bag, and then Emmy. Stepping back into the main room, she faced Caroline, who entered the station once more.

  Caroline pressed her palm to her lips and sniffed back her tears. “He’s in bad shape, Roslyn, and I don’t know what more to do for him. He started to run a fever before daylight. I’ve been bathing him, but it hasn’t broken yet. The skin around his wounds is red. I cleaned them with the whiskey again, and then gave him some to drink, hoping it might ease the pain.”

  Roslyn wrapped her free arm around Caroline and hugged the woman to her. “We’ll get him help, Caroline. I know it will be a rough ride, especially for him, but it’s good we’re leaving today.”

  Eustace entered the door. “We put him in the center of the forward-facing seat of the coach, Mrs. Peterson. Do you need help carrying anything else out?”

  Caroline shook her head. “No. I have one last bag I’m keeping with us. The rest is in the boot. I’ll be right there.”

  Outside, Roslyn turned to Eustace. “I baked up three loaves of bread for everyone. That should last you a little while. The beans for tonight are on to soak, so be sure to start cooking them mid-afternoon. And you know where the ham is…”

  Tom, who had joined them, laughed. “We won’t starve. We’re sending Eustace into town later to talk to Lorena. With a little bit of luck, before the week’s out, he’ll have a wife, and we’ll have a cook.”

  Eustace grunted and waved Tom away. “If you’re finished planning my life, would you be so kind as to open the gate so they can get out of here?” He paused as he turned back to Roslyn. His gaze roamed over her and Emmy. “Mrs. Welsh, are you sure you want to do this?”

  Roslyn smiled and nodded. “It’s what has to be done, Eustace. We’ve got three men inside that coach who need a doctor.”

  “I’m not sure those Cheyenne are gone.”

  Roslyn swallowed. She refused to dwell on that possibility, or she might lose her nerve. She looked down at Emmy, which strengthened her resolve. “I’m not, either, but I have two men with me riding shotgun, and, from what I see, two soldiers on top ready to defend us. We also have five men riding escort. The stock might be mismatched, but they’ll be a good team for me. They’ll get us through. I’ll be fine.”

  Roslyn walked over to the coach and glanced around at the passengers. Caroline sat closest to the door with Isaac in the center. The soldier who had been patched up in the kitchen the night before slouched against the corner of the bench on the other side, his rifle resting between his legs and braced against his boot. Roslyn felt a moment of unease as she noted the pallor of his face, but she chose to say nothing.

  Across from Caroline sat the injured man brought over that morning. He appeared to be more alert. He held his rifle with the butt resting on the seat and the barrel pointed up, the end barely outside the window. When he turned her direction, she smiled. “You holler or tap the roof with that thing if anyone back here needs me to stop.”

  Roslyn handed Emmy to Caroline. “I just changed her not long ago. Hopefully, she’ll hold until we reach Spring Creek. If not, here are her things.” She slid her tow sack off her shoulder and set it on the floor next to Caroline’s feet. “It’s about thirty-five miles to Salina where we can get some dinner—a long trip, but we’ll spend more time than the usual stop at Spring Creek to give everyone a good rest.”

  Grateful she had already tied the bottom of her split skirt trouser legs snug against her calves, Roslyn climbed into the driver’s box. Upon seeing Elam’s head as he made his way up the other side of the coach, she turned and held out her hands. “Give me your crutches and rifle, Elam.” She stashed his crutches beneath the bench and held his weapon while Elam grabbed the roof’s top rail and the front edge of the box. He pulled himself up far enough to twist and plant his seat on the bench.

  Coming up behind him, Danny helped maneuver the wooden leg in position so Elam could scoot in the middle. “You might have to sit with your leg at an angle, Elam.”

  Elam worked his jaw. “I’ll make do.”

  After seeing everyone in their places and handing Elam his rifle, Roslyn picked up Ross’s old hat she had tossed in the well of the box and settled it on top of her braided bun. She picked up the reins and positioned them in her gloved hands.

  Beelzebub craned his head around far enough to catch sight of Roslyn. He snorted and stomped his front hoof.

  “Now, Bubby, don’t look back and get excited about the hat. I’ve got to wear something with a brim, or my face will sunburn red like a spring radish.”

  A frisson of excitement coursed through Roslyn as she studied the leads. It’s been a long time. I forgot how much I miss this. She turned to Sgt. Baker—a different sergeant than who had come to the station the night before. “I’m ready when your men are.”

  “Let’s go, then.” The sergeant motioned with his hands and gave the command. The mounted men with him rode through the gate.

  Roslyn flipped the leads. “Let’s go, ladies—you, too, Bubby. Yip! Yip! Next stop, Spring Creek. Yip!”

  After a couple of hours of riding through the almost-level country with its treeless, tall grass landscape, Roslyn felt a peace descend upon her. She had become accustomed to the rocking motion of the coach, which was so different from a wagon firmly attached to its axles. She hoped to see signs of the station soon so she could learn how the men—especially Isaac—were doing.

  Not long into the trip, Elam repositioned his leg so it rested at a slight angle in her direction. He held his Spencer with the butt propped on the thigh of his amputated leg while the foot of the other leg pressed against the front wall of the footwell and braced his body on the bench. He straightened his right arm along the top of the bench behind her and gripped the rail secured to the roof.

  Without realizing it, Roslyn relaxed against Elam’s side. She briefly clos
ed her eyes each time the movement of the coach sent his head toward the side of her face and she felt his breath against her skin. She kept a firm hold on the traces but fought to keep her full attention on the team instead of dividing it between them and the man sitting next to her.

  A shout from one of the soldiers riding on top of the stagecoach shattered Roslyn’s sense of calm. “Indian’s coming up behind us.”

  She tightened her grip on the leads to prepare in case she needed to signal the team to increase their speed.

  “Hold your fire until they’re within range.” Sgt. Baker’s voice barked the order.

  Roslyn stiffened as she pulled away from Elam. I’m not waiting until they’re in range.

  Elam also straightened and grabbed his rifle with both hands. He leaned toward Roslyn. “You best keep your eyes on them animals and keep them moving. You let us worry about the rest.”

  Roslyn slapped the reins and grabbed the whip. She snapped it above Tulip, the lead horse on the right. “Go, Tulip! Yip! Yip!” She cracked it over Starlight. “You ladies get moving. We’ve got unwanted visitors.”

  Beelzebub whinnied his objection to the sudden increase in speed.

  “Don’t be that way, Bubby. I need those strong front legs of yours to keep this stagecoach going. Let’s go!” She snapped her whip again. “Yip! Yip! You’re doing good. Keep it up.”

  By this point, in addition to reports from the weapons, Roslyn heard the war cries of the Cheyenne. A shiver ran down her spine.

  Above the din, Sgt. Baker yelled out his order. “After them, men. We’ve got them on the run.”

  Roslyn twisted around to see what took place behind the coach. Her jaw dropped open as she watched the five mounted soldiers ride away to chase after the handful of hostiles who had attacked them. Stay with the stagecoach. Stay with the stagecoach. Breathing heavily, she turned to face the team once again. She leaned forward and stared at the backs of the animals, her eyes now wide with concern.