by Becky Lower
“I spied some broken branches over on the deer trail, and a scrap of the shirt she’d been wearing hanging on one of them. I’m sure she started out, anyway, heading west.”
Valerian held his breath and waited while Jack stared at the deer trail. Would he take the bait? Or would he be smart enough to realize he was being led into an Indian uprising?
“Give me back my gun, then.” He held out his hand to Valerian, who had no choice but to return the man’s weapon. Jack’s heels dug into the horse’s sides and he began to move toward the trail. “I guess this is where we part company. I’ll go find my niece. Then I’ll come back, gunning for you.” He gave Valerian one more evil stare before he brushed past, headed for the little path.
The sheriff and Valerian followed Jack’s movements until they could no longer see him. Then the sheriff turned in his saddle. “Guess I’ll be heading back east from here. I’ve been away too long as it is. Good job, son, sending Jack into Indian territory. Hopefully, they’ll know what to do with him.”
Valerian couldn’t keep the smile from his face. He ran his hand over his mouth and returned the sheriff’s gaze, locking eyes with him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“That’s what I thought. Take care, son, and I hope you and Samantha can reconnect at some point. You two deserve each other.”
The sheriff flicked the reins and began his eastward journey, back to St. Joseph. Valerian was left alone on the trail and inhaled a big gulp of air before he headed north.
• • •
It took the better part of a week to make the trek across Missouri. Samantha didn’t try to push her mount. Jack’s horse hadn’t been well taken care of, and she went easy on him, giving him ample time to graze. Besides, she was safer on the move than when she sat stationary. And the extra days helped with her hair. It had always grown quickly, which had become a nuisance when she was attempting to pass herself off as a boy but now worked to her advantage. Still posing as a man, she stopped along the way and purchased a secondhand dress, declaring she was buying it for her sister. As soon as she left the little town, she changed her clothes, burying her beloved red Pony Express shirt. The only things she kept were her picture of her parents, the bullet Valerian had pulled from her back, and her hat to shield her face from the sun, which became harsh every afternoon. Her transformation back to a woman was complete.
She wondered about Valerian and what happened to him once he returned to Seneca without her. Her mind ran through all different sorts of scenarios, but the outcomes were always the same and never good. She had to stop thinking about him. Best to leave him in the past and think ahead. What lay beyond the next bend in the road? The little thrill of excitement she got whenever she crested a hill was enough to keep her going. She only had a little money left, so she’d have to find work fast in whatever town she ended up in. Maybe she’d do laundry or prepare meals in a country inn or stagecoach stop. It would mean no more working with horses, but she was better off in a profession more suitable to women, anyway. She needed to get as far away as she could from what her life with the Pony Express had been. Seven months and twenty days to go.
The size of the city of St. Louis surprised her. She’d thought St. Joe was a big city, but St. Louis was nearly double the size. There would be work to be found here. Samantha inhaled a deep breath as she rode down the main thoroughfare in town and noted possible places to apply for work.
She bypassed the stables and continued on down the street, past the National City Bank, a doctor’s office, a saloon with gay piano music tinkling forth even at this hour of the morning, and the town laundry. There was also a general store and a few small shops offering dressmaking services, custom hats, and other goods. No one paid any attention to her as she continued on down the street. The kink between her shoulder blades began to unknot the tiniest bit. She could get lost here quite easily—even more so if she were farther outside of town. She’d take one of the most well-traveled roads and see what she could find there. She could always loop back into town if the road proved to go nowhere exciting.
She passed a few people along the way and nodded as the men tipped their hats when she rode past. After all, she wanted to fit in, and go unnoticed. Acceptable behavior in this town seemed to be for the men to tip their hats in salute when passing. Easy enough to nod in recognition, and if it didn’t draw attention to her, so much the better. Several miles out from town, she came to a fairly good-sized roadhouse. The scent of bacon and eggs hung in the air, making her stomach growl. She hadn’t eaten since the previous afternoon, so, even if the roadhouse had no jobs available, it was a good place to stop.
With a bit of trepidation, she opened the door to the place. Even if it was true women in the West had more freedom to travel unaccompanied, she didn’t know if that same freedom extended to dining alone. Her stomach cramped from both emptiness and fear, nearly doubling her over. She ran a hand over her stomach to calm herself, but she had no choice but to walk inside.
Only a handful of guests remained in the restaurant, and she breathed a little sigh of relief. A rotund, little lady came up to her, her apron still around her stomach.
“Hello, dearie. Are you in need of some breakfast?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am. Some toast and bacon will be fine. I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
“Nonsense. You look plum tuckered out, and my guess is you haven’t eaten well in days. Sit right here, and I’ll bring you some strong, hot coffee to begin with. There’s plenty of food left in the kitchen, and I’ll keep bringing it out until you eat your fill.”
“I … I don’t have much money, ma’am. So just a bit will be fine.”
The woman smiled at her. “You’ve come to the right place then. We don’t charge much here. Now sit, and I’ll bring you that coffee.”
Chapter 21
The plump proprietress kept bringing out food until Samantha finally laid her fork and knife back on the table. She groaned her approval and rubbed a hand over her stomach. By this hour of the morning, everyone else had left to get started on the day. The woman returned to the table with the coffee pot, and Samantha shook her head.
“No, thank you. I couldn’t eat or drink another thing. But I truly enjoyed every morsel. Tell me, how do you get your biscuits so light and flaky?”
Instead of keeping her prowess in the kitchen a secret by turning away, the woman pulled out the chair on the opposite side and sat, obviously intent on conversation. Samantha should have kept her question to herself. She certainly didn’t want to reveal to this woman how dire her circumstances were. The woman placed the coffee pot on the table and peered across at Samantha.
“It’s nothing special. Ice-cold lard is the key. Honey child, I didn’t want to bother you until you had your fill of breakfast. But my name’s Leticia. You can call me Letty. My husband, Horace, and I have run this place for a couple years now.”
Samantha lifted her gaze from her soiled plate. So far, the woman had been nothing but kind to her. She got a sudden pang in her heart, remembering how sweet her mother had been, and how her time at her mother’s grave had been so violently interrupted. Tears threatened, and she blinked them away.
“Thank you, Letty, for your kindness. My name’s Samantha. And I haven’t been so well fed in days.”
“Now that your belly is full, tell me what else you need.”
Samantha squinted at her, fear taking over again. “What makes you think I need anything else?”
Letty didn’t respond, simply ran her gaze over Samantha’s face. And her dirty dress.
“I had Horace take care of your horse for you while you ate. He said it had been ridden hard. So, you’ve come a ways. My guess is you don’t have more than two coins to rub together and this is your only clothing.” She ran a hand over Samantha’s sleeve.
Samantha shifted in her chair. If Letty could discern her miserable conditions in such a short period of time, so could most everyone else. She had to correct th
e situation.
“I, uh, I do need a job.”
Letty grinned. “It so happens one of our waitresses left recently, which is why I’ve had to be both cook and hostess. The girls I hire just keep getting married off. Pay’s not much, but it’s a job if you want it.”
“I’ll take it. Thank you.”
“Anything else?”
Samantha squirmed in her seat and avoided eye contact. Letty had already provided her much more than she deserved. She couldn’t ask for more.
Letty prompted her. “Where are you staying, dearie?”
“I … I haven’t made arrangements anywhere yet.”
“That’s what I thought. Are you any good with horses?”
Samantha lifted her gaze to her benefactor again. “I’ve never met a horse I didn’t like.”
“Well, good. There’s a room in the barn, and it’s yours if you want. All we ask is for you to take care of the horses and the barn in exchange for your quarters.”
“You’re willing to give me a job and a place to live? Why?”
“Because it’s the way of the West, dearie. If we didn’t help each other out, we’d all be dead. Now, it gets a mite cold out in the barn, even with the stove out there, but I’ve got some extra coats and clothing for when the weather turns. You’ll find some men’s attire to wear when you muck the barn, and you’ll wear a uniform when you’re working here.”
Samantha’s head began to swim. She could not believe her good fortune. Letty was providing her with everything she needed to maintain a low profile. She locked eyes with the woman. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a saint?”
Letty smiled and patted her hand. “Once or twice. But I never tire of hearing it. Come along, then. Let me show you to your room. Something tells me you need about twelve hours of sleep.”
“No, I need to take care of the horses and report here for your lunchtime crowd.”
“Not today, Samantha. You need to get caught up on your sleep. I don’t want you being so dead on your feet you’ll fall into the soup. And I want you to strip down so I can wash your clothes. You’ll feel much better with a good sleep and some clean underwear.”
Letty pushed back from the table, the chair legs squealing in protest. Samantha sat still for a moment, giving thanks for her good fortune. Then she quickly rose and followed Letty to the kitchen. She’d be the best damn waitress and stable boy Letty ever had. She owed this woman her life. Seven months and twenty days to go
• • •
Once Samantha recovered from her mad dash away from Uncle Jack, she settled into a pleasant routine at the roadhouse. Both she and Uncle Jack’s horse were enjoying their respite from the road. They were both putting on some weight, and the care Samantha was giving to the horse made his dark hair shine.
“I’m calling you Savior because that’s what you are. You’re no longer just Uncle Jack’s horse. Will you enjoy having a name?”
The horse nodded his head in agreement, and buried his nose in her shirt, searching for a peppermint.
“Yes, I have a treat for you. Greedy boy, aren’t you?” Samantha laughed as she fished out the sweet for the horse. Even though her days were hard, she couldn’t complain. She had food, shelter, a good horse to take care of, and people who were kind to her. Her guard was still up, but she relaxed a bit.
Her daily routine had her up before dawn, feeding the horses in the barn, and then dashing into the kitchen to begin the day’s work. Samantha had taken over most of the cooking chores from Aunt Hilda when she lived with her aunt and uncle and was no novice to the stove, but Letty taught her how to take a basic meal and make it wholesome and tasty. She learned how to work with dough and yeast to make rolls and bread. The scent of yeast would forever remind her of her days spent in this idyllic place.
Well, yeast and horse dung. She had changed from her work uniform into the breeches and boots she had found in the barn. She lifted the pitchfork full of dung and hay and plopped it into the wheelbarrow, wrinkling her nose in the process. It was between breakfast and lunch, and she had time to clean out the barn. It was her time to think, to let her mind wander wherever it wanted to roam.
And of course it wandered directly to Valerian. She hoped he hadn’t gotten into trouble for helping her out. Hoped he had been able to keep his job on the Pony Express, since he lived to ride horses. Wished she could see him again, but not telling him in which direction she rode was best for them both. They were two souls who had come together briefly, and his talk of a homestead for them both was just that—talk. It could never be. Valerian would return to his home in New York sooner or later, and she would be on her own once again. There could be no other outcome.
Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the barn door open. She lifted her head at the sound of a horse’s hooves on the stone floor.
A tall man led a horse into one of the barn’s stalls. She glanced at him and held her breath. The man resembled Joseph, Valerian’s brother-in-law! What was he doing here? It couldn’t possibly be him, could it? Best keep her guard up. She was wearing pants again, so quite possibly, if it truly were Joseph, he’d be able to place her as the boy he’d had dinner with months ago. But then again, her hair had been growing back into place and now grazed her shoulders. She turned to face him.
“Hello, young miss. I am dropping off a horse for Horace. He has need of a new mount.”
At least he didn’t immediately think she was a boy. She let out her breath. “That’s fine. I’ll take care of him.”
The man removed the bridle and patted the horse’s rump before he left the stall and turned to face her. Samantha tried not to squirm under his appraising gaze. He stood with one hand on the top rail of the stall and stared at her for a long minute. She didn’t move. Nor did he. Her breath caught in her throat as she endured his hard stare.
She could take the scrutiny no longer. A shiver ran down her spine as his dark eyes bored into her soul. She shrugged and turned her back to him. “Will there be anything else, sir?” She hoped he’d disappear in a cloud of dust. Or that she would.
“What is your name?”
She turned back. “It’s Samantha. And I’m extremely busy, so if there’s nothing else …”
He reached out a hand and stopped her as she tried to move past him.
“Where do you hail from, Samantha? I have a feeling we know one another.”
“I’m not from around here. Just arrived a few weeks ago. I’m sure we’ve never met.”
“Possibly not. Perhaps I am mistaken. Do you work in the roadhouse as well?”
“Yes, sir. I clean the stables and take care of the horses in exchange for a room here. And I work inside to pay for my meals.”
“Which do you prefer?”
“I’ll take horses over people any day. Never met one I didn’t like. Why do you ask?”
“To get your answer. Good day.”
He tipped his hat and left the barn without making another sound. Samantha was frozen in place. Perhaps he had placed her as the scrawny lad Valerian had befriended back in March. Perhaps he was only being a mysterious Indian. What did he really mean?
Chapter 22
Valerian picked up the routine of the Pony Express again. He’d been grilled pretty hard by Gus but didn’t crack, because he truly didn’t know where Samantha had headed. It plagued him, his lack of knowledge. He had thought they had a future together, but now? America was a vast country. His chances of finding her again were pretty much non-existent. As he galloped along from Seneca to Marysville or in the opposite direction, from Seneca to St. Joseph, he always had one eye out for her, hoping she’d stay close. But he never found her. His future plans, with the two of them together, were evaporating before his eyes.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into one month, then two. Samantha still had months left before she turned eighteen and could legally be out of Jack’s grasp. If he were still alive, even. Val smiled as he thought of Jack riding right into the middle of an Indian uprisin
g. Would serve the bastard right if they tortured him for days before killing him, after the torture he’d put Samantha through. And her aunt.
Riding for the Pony Express had lost some of its luster. The hot, dusty days of August and September came and went, with the temperature climbing into triple digits, making galloping across open country a sweaty chore. Val preferred hot, dusty days to raging thunderstorms and swollen creek beds, though. But he had equal share of both, and riding became a grind instead of a joy. He hated seeing the ponies ridden to their breaking point, all for the sake of getting the mail through in record time. So many of the horses they’d started with at the beginning of the Express in April had to be put down, or they’d collapsed and died on their own at the end of their runs. He was certain Joseph and his brothers would be called upon soon for an additional railcar full of fresh mounts.
He’d rather be riding, though, than sitting around in the station waiting for his next assignment. What was the point in engaging in a game of cards to win money if the homestead or ranch he was saving up for meant nothing now? Samantha would never be part of what he had created in his head. There would be no children to care for.
Valerian finished off the strong, dark coffee and then twirled his mug between his hands as he sat in the dining hall at the Smith Hotel. What was the point of anything now? He should head back to New York. Rumors of war between the North and the South were getting louder and louder. Soon, nothing else would be talked about, and every able-bodied man would be called upon to fight. But he didn’t want to fight. All he wanted was to head west with Samantha.