Messenger by Moonlight

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  “There you are. Finally.”

  Annie looked past him. “What are you upset about? I beat Emmet and Jake down.”

  “No, you didn’t. They went on ahead.” He nodded at Mr. Pierce, who turned around, took a box off a shelf behind him, and set it on the counter. Frank slid it toward Annie. “Emmet said I should do the honors. It was my idea, but it’s from both of us.”

  The Paxtons were not a gift-giving family. Annie stared at the box. “What is it?”

  “Open it.”

  Setting her hat on the counter, Annie untied the string and lifted the lid. Boots. New boots.

  “Well now,” Mr. Pierce said quietly. “That’s as fine a pair of boots as I ever saw.” He smiled at Annie. “You wear them in good health, Miss Paxton. And don’t forget your friends at the Patee House.”

  “We didn’t know what color,” Frank said. “I personally thought red was the way to go, but you know Emmet. Always so conservative.”

  “They’re perfect,” Annie croaked. She’d never had a pair of new boots in her life. Every spring, Pa took a piece of paper and a pencil and drew around her foot. He carried the paper to town, usually managing to return with the right size, but always with a pair so worn Annie suspected he’d dug them out of the cobbler’s patch pile. She quickly donned the boots and did a little two-step to show her delight before asking the inevitable question. How had they managed it? They had no money.

  “We have money,” Frank said. “A little. Ira bought Bill and Bart. And the rig.”

  “But he didn’t want them.”

  “When Emmet and I told him what we’d do with the money, he changed his mind.”

  Chapter 6

  Expecting to be assigned a nag ready to be turned out to pasture, Annie was thrilled when Ira led a paint mare out of the livery and said, “This is Shadow. She’s as kind as she is pretty. The perfect lady to carry you west.” He hitched the mare to a corral post as he talked. “You step on up and introduce yourself while I fetch the saddle and bridle.” He hesitated. “Your brothers said not to bother with a side saddle. That right?”

  Annie nodded.

  Ira went back into the livery and Annie stepped up to the mare. Her head, neck, and chest were black, save for a wide white strip down her face. A hank of white at the base of the otherwise-black mane accented white withers. Her legs and tail were white, her powerful haunches splashed with more black. When Annie murmured, “You’re a beauty,” the mare lowered her head and nuzzled Annie’s hand.

  Ira returned and set a beat-up saddle and a striped blanket on the ground. Annie said, “I didn’t expect anything this well broke.”

  “Just because she’s not half-wild doesn’t mean you should drop your guard,” Ira warned. “She loves to run.” He nodded toward the corral behind them. “If you’ve got things covered here, I’ll help the boys. We’ve got to get those ponies sorted into three strings. Three ponies each for your brothers and Jake to lead west.”

  Annie said that was fine and in a few moments she had Shadow saddled and the stirrups adjusted. Leading the mare to the mounting block, she slid into the saddle and quickly tucked her skirt about her legs. She sat for a moment, patting the mare’s neck and talking to her. It wasn’t until she’d reined about to watch the boys working that she really paid attention to the three horses that had already been saddled. A bay, a buckskin, and—Outlaw? It looked like Outlaw, but this horse was waiting quietly instead of spitting fire.

  Annie nudged Shadow closer to the corral where the men were working, taking care to leave a wide berth between herself and the black horse. When Frank looked her way, she nodded at Outlaw and called out, “You really think that’s a good idea?”

  “Nope,” he called back. “I think it’s a great idea.” As if to prove his point, he strode up to the black horse and patted its neck.

  Emmet spoke up. “I had doubts, too, but Frank’s put a lot of time into that horse in the past couple of weeks. The two of them get along all right.”

  This was no time to cause trouble. Annie reached down and patted Shadow’s neck again, then turned her attention to the action inside the corral. With Ira’s help, each man singled out the lead pony for each string. Once that horse was haltered and hitched to a corral pole, the second in the string was caught and brought up. Next came an ingenious use of rope and tail. Each rider ran his hand along the back of his lead horse, across the haunches, and down the tail, stopping at the end of the tailbone. That located, they folded the tip of the tail over the lead rope attached to the second pony’s halter. A few wraps about the tail, a half hitch, and the second horse was tied to the first’s tail. The knots were secure, and yet they could be released with a quick yank on the right loop. After the final horse in each string was tied to the second in the same manner, Frank, Emmet, and Jake led their respective strings of three ponies out of the corral, mounted up, hitched the lead rope about the horn of their saddle, and were ready to go.

  Frank sidled up to Annie and Shadow. “Outlaw’s taken a shine to your horse. If you don’t mind, we’ll ride together.”

  “I don’t mind—but I don’t trust that black devil, either.”

  Ira stepped up and put a hand on Shadow’s neck as he looked up at Annie. “Soon as you’re back in St. Jo., Fern will put in a good word for you at the Patee House. If you still want it, that is.”

  “I will,” Annie said. “Please thank her for me. Tell her not to forget me.”

  “That’s not likely to happen.”

  “And thank you for your part in these.” She took one foot out of the stirrup and wiggled her new boot.

  “Glad to do it. Those mules have perked up a bit since they had a chance to rest.” He smiled up at her. “If you was of a mind to brighten an old man’s day now and again, I wouldn’t mind hearing how you’re getting on.”

  Annie promised to write. Bidding Ira good-bye, Frank nudged Outlaw forward. Annie followed his lead. As she reined Shadow to turn west at the corner, she took one last look back up the hill toward the Patee House.

  Frank noticed. His voice was gentle as he said, “We’ll be back before you know it. Blue trim and window boxes. Fruit trees and a blackberry bramble. And lots of flowers. I promise.”

  Annie nodded. She reached up to touch the place where two keys hung on a velvet ribbon. One key to preserve her past. The other to guard the future. Two good things.

  When the steam-powered ferry transporting the Pony Express train across the Missouri had banged and whistled its way to the middle of the muddy river, Annie turned her back on St. Jo. and faced the opposite side, all the while murmuring comfort to Shadow. She wasn’t sure whom the constant stream of conversation helped more, herself or the horse.

  Shadow followed her off the ferry and onto dry land willingly, whickering and touching noses with Outlaw the minute the two were reunited. Frank helped Annie back into the saddle and mounted up himself. Luther would ride the taller of a pair of gray roans named Big Boy and Andy. The horses were the designated “wheelers,” meaning they were positioned nearest the fully loaded freight wagon. Four mules would provide the power needed to haul the massive freight wagon along the trail.

  As the sun burned away the last remnants of the early morning fog lingering in the dips and valleys, the Pony Express train wound its way through several miles of bottomland thick with trees, many of them festooned with the dried remnants of last season’s wild vines and creepers. Annie and Shadow loped alongside Frank and Outlaw, with Emmet and Jake and their respective strings of ponies moving more slowly alongside the freight wagon. Several lighter immigrant wagons, each one pulled by only two teams of oxen, had made the river crossing just behind them. When Annie glanced back and saw the string of white wagon covers gleaming in the morning sun, she felt reassured.

  Luther noticed the backward glance. “You already thinking about making a run for it?”

  “Nope.” Annie nodded toward the wagons. “I didn’t realize we’d have company.”

  Lut
her looked behind them. “They won’t keep up. But we still won’t be alone. We’ll catch up to another train before long, and if we pass them, there’ll be another. You’ll see.”

  By noon, they’d outstripped the wagon train behind them. In keeping with Luther’s prediction, it wasn’t long before more covered wagons appeared in the distance. He called Annie’s attention to them. “Looks like sailboats gliding over a sea of grass, don’t it?”

  “You’ve seen the ocean?”

  Luther winked. “Yes, Ma’am, I have. Seen it and sailed on it for a while. Grew up on a little finger of land that sticks out into a lake so big some folks thought it was another ocean when they first saw it. Of course it ain’t nothin’ compared to the Atlantic.”

  “And you came here,” Annie said. “To this.” She motioned toward the empty horizon.

  “Yes, Ma’am, I did. Got sick and tired of fish and salty air. Decided to get as far away from it as I could. One day I tossed some things in a sack and started walking west. And here I am. Smack-dab in the middle of the continent, master of my own wheeled schooner, and happy as a big sunflower.”

  Annie looked toward the horizon. She couldn’t imagine trading blue water and sailboats for a treeless, barren plain.

  “Bet I know what you’re thinking,” Luther said. “You’re looking out yonder”—he swept his hand across the expanse of blue sky—“and all you’re seein’ is what ain’t there. Am I right?” When Annie didn’t reply, he nodded. “I’m right. I’ve heard plenty of ladies camped on the trail, walking the trail, calling this a ‘barren wasteland.’” He clucked to Big Boy, and the horse picked up the pace a bit. “Well it ain’t barren at all. You give Mother Nature a few days with her paintbrush, and she’ll give you more flowers than you can imagine. Grass as tall as a horse. Green so green and blue so blue you’ll think you never saw those colors before. A little spring rain and everything will change, practically overnight. You’ll see.” He nodded toward a cloud hovering above the distant horizon. “In fact, from the looks of things, Mother Nature might just put a few swipes of color on her prairie canvas before the day’s out.”

  Annie doubted that one little cloud would amount to rain, but she held her peace. Not long after they first spotted the cloud, a heavy layer of gray collected along the bottom edge. Luther called for everyone to don rain slickers. “There’s a draw not too far ahead. If we make it before the rain hits, we’ll hunker down until the storm’s past.”

  Storm. Again, Annie wondered at the man’s caution, but after the brief stop, the blue sky began to change color, fading first to a pale gray and then taking on the gray-green tones that had always made Pa send her to the fruit cellar. Out here in the open there was nowhere to go. Shadow began to dance a bit, tossing her head and snorting. Wagons up ahead pulled off the trail and circled. When sunlight streamed through a break in the clouds and reflected off a circle of canvas covers, Annie thought it looked like an immense halo hovering just above the surface of the dormant prairie.

  Luther kept them moving. As they passed the circled wagons, Annie caught sight of two women peering out through the rear opening in the wagon cover. Both waved. Annie waved back. What would it be like to travel the trail with another woman? She hadn’t said anything about it to Frank or Emmet, but one of the reasons she longed to settle in a city was an unvoiced longing for a friend. She’d planned to attend church regularly—maybe even join the choir. Eventually, she would meet another woman she could confide in. They would attend sewing bees and circle meetings together, trade recipes and gossip. She would never have to be lonely again.

  Frank jolted her back to the moment, riding up and ordering her to “stay close to the freight wagon.” The place where the sun had broken through had closed up. The clouds seemed lower—heavier, somehow. And angrier. Frank said that he and Emmet and Jake were going to ride away from her a bit. “We don’t want you getting tangled up if the ponies try to bolt.” Annie nodded, and Frank called to Luther. “How far to that draw you said we could shelter in?”

  The wind had picked up. Luther had to raise his voice so Frank could hear the answer. “Not far, but it don’t look like we’ll make it before the storm hits.” He glanced over at Annie. “Frank’s right. You stick with me. My critters don’t like storms, but they’ve been through plenty of ’em. They’ll stay steady.”

  Shadow resisted staying behind while Outlaw moved away, but Annie held her back, doing her best to remain calm while Frank, Emmet, and Jake urged their horses to a lope. At the first sound of distant thunder, Shadow skittered sideways. Luther called out a warning. “Tighten up on those reins, now. Don’t let her get away from you.”

  With the next crack of thunder, Shadow whinnied and reared. A blast of cold air nearly swept Annie’s hat off her head. She reached up to grab it just as lightning flashed. The gesture gave Shadow a chance to take the bit. With the next crack of thunder, she bolted, and the clouds opened. Blinded by the downpour, all Annie could do was hunker down and hang on.

  Frank and the others were little more than blurs as Shadow streaked past. Finally, the mare charged up a rise, and then the earth fell away. They were in the air, below them the rocky approach to a fast-running creek. Somehow, Shadow kept her footing when she landed. After only two steps, she lurched right to avoid the rushing water. Annie went flying into the creek. Soaked nearly to her waist with icy water, she fought to keep from being dragged under as Shadow disappeared into the distance.

  The instant Shadow streaked past, Frank freed his string of ponies and spurred Outlaw into the storm, after Annie and the runaway paint. Through the pouring rain, he caught a glimpse of Shadow’s white rump just before it fell out of sight. His stomach lurched. The draw. And Shadow had just dropped into it.

  He barely managed to pull Outlaw to a skidding stop before the two of them pitched headlong down the steep creek bank. Down below, Annie was clawing her way out of the churning waters of a creek. With a shout of relief, Frank flung himself down from the saddle and slid down the bank to his drenched sister. Cursing Shadow, he grabbed Annie in a desperate hug. “You all right?”

  Annie clung to him. “J-just c-c-cold.”

  The storm stopped as quickly as it had begun and the sun came out. Annie retrieved her hat and Frank helped her scramble back up to where, miraculously, Outlaw waited, his head down, his dark coat even darker where the rain had drenched him. “You’re a wonder, you crazy horse,” Frank said, patting the horse’s neck before boosting Annie into the saddle and scrambling up behind her.

  “C-can’t believe he didn’t run off,” Annie chattered.

  “He’s got more sense than all the others put together,” Frank replied, surprised by the affection that welled up inside of him for the same animal that had once seemed bent on killing him. The minute he reached around Annie and took the reins, Outlaw wheeled about and headed for the others. Emmet and Jake appeared in the distance, galloping toward them—without their strings of ponies.

  “Thank God,” Emmet cried out when he saw Annie. “You’re all right?”

  “Nothing hurt but her pride,” Frank said before muttering to Annie, “an amazing bit of horsemanship, by the way.”

  Shivering with cold, she stuttered, “I w-would have landed that jump if sh-she hadn’t jerked right so f-fast.”

  “Luther’s making camp,” Emmet called. “Jake and I can chase down your ponies. Can you track Shadow?”

  Frank nodded. “Soon as I get Annie situated.”

  Back at camp, Annie used the wagon for cover while she changed out of her soaked clothes and wrapped up in a dry blanket. Frank spread her things on the wagon wheels to dry.

  Luther was making coffee, and as soon as it was ready, Frank produced his flask and added a little whiskey to Annie’s mug. “It’ll warm you right up.”

  She frowned. “How’s this fit with that oath I witnessed?”

  “About as well as my swearing at the horse that nearly killed you.”

  “I—I’m sorry.”
Annie ducked her head. “I tried to hold her back. I just—couldn’t.”

  Frank held out the tin mug. “I’m just trying to keep you from catching your death of cold. The last thing we need is for you to be too sick to do your job at Clearwater.”

  Annie drew the blanket close about her shoulders and sat down by the fire. Cupping the tin mug with her hands, she sipped the toddy. With a shudder, she inched closer to the campfire. She took another sip.

  Frank spoke to Luther. “I’m riding back to the draw to pick up Shadow’s trail. As for the other horses, I don’t imagine they went far. Once the sun came out, they probably forgot why they were running and went to grazing.”

  Luther nodded. “It’d be good to make Valley Home before dark if we can. That’s about ten miles on up the trail.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Frank said.

  Once he’d put a little distance between himself and camp, he took a little sip of whiskey, grateful for the warmth it spread through his midsection.

  He caught up with Shadow just before sundown. She met his approach—or, rather, Outlaw’s approach—with a welcoming nicker.

  Chapter 7

  Early in the evening, a week into the ten-day journey to Clearwater, Annie and Shadow had just picked their way across a creek and come alongside Luther’s wagon when the freighter pointed at a barely discernible gray dot on the horizon. “Hollenberg Station. One of the best-run places between here and Clearwater.”

  As they rode along, Luther spoke of Gerat and Sophia Hollenberg, the German couple who had, just three years previously, built a single-room log cabin at a prime spot on the California-Oregon trail. As their business grew, they added on. The single room eventually expanded to the current six-room building that, in addition to the family’s quarters, housed a grocery and dry goods store, an unofficial post office, a meal-serving tavern, and a loft offering overnight lodging. “See that barn?” He pointed at the massive structure just past the station. “Stalls for one hundred horses or mules.” He waxed positively lyrical about Mrs. Hollenberg’s cooking.