by Karen Kirst
Please help her be all right, he found himself thinking, almost like a prayer. The idea of no longer having her in his life cut deeper than he’d ever thought possible five days earlier. Because she’s become as good a friend as Amos, his mind argued. But his heart, thrumming fast within his chest, told a different story. It had been weeks since he’d last held a woman in his arms, and yet, the experience of embracing Cynthia had never inspired this sort of contentment, despite the precarious situation.
“Delsie?” he said, bending to speak near her ear.
Several long seconds passed before she answered, “Hmm?” Sleepiness laced her voice, provoking fresh anxiety within him.
“You’ve got to stay awake, sleeping beauty.” The endearment rolled without effort off his tongue, though he wondered if she even noticed it in her dozing state. “At least until we can get you out of the rain and get you warm.”
“But I’m just…so tired…Myles.”
He pressed her tighter to him, hoping his own warmth would add to hers. “I know, but I need you to stay awake for me. All right?”
She murmured something inaudible, then seemed to shake herself. “You could tell me a story.”
“A story, huh?” He searched his memories for one. There were plenty of sad tales, but could he think of a happy one? “I remember the first time I got bucked off a horse. Landed so hard on my backside, I couldn’t sit at the table for two days.” He thought he heard her chuckle. “I told Charles, my stepfather, I would never ride again. But he said, ‘Son, life’s all about getting bucked off. You can’t let it make you wallow in the dust, though. You gotta get yourself back up there and show it you ain’t afraid.’”
Myles paused, the recollection filling him with a trace of happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time. While he missed Charles, perhaps he’d been mistaken in not remembering the man more often in an effort to avoid the continued grief of his passing. Yes, there was pain in recalling some parts of the past, but there were plenty of joyful moments, too, like the one he’d just shared.
“So did you?” Delsie prompted, her voice still faint but no longer sounding so sleepy. “Did you get back up on the horse?”
“I did, and he never bucked me off again.”
He could sense the smile on her face when she said, “Good for you, Myles. Do you have another story?”
“Plenty.”
“Then I want to hear them.”
The conviction in her tone warmed him through and through.
*
Delsie tried to focus on Myles’s tales, some funny, some thought provoking, but the lure of sleep tugged at her again and again. She’d never felt so cold in her life. Even with the heat of Myles’s jacket and his solid, warm chest behind her, she could hardly keep her body from shivering and her teeth from rattling. At least she was mostly protected from the rain.
Biting her frozen lip, she shifted in the saddle, hoping to keep herself awake. She knew she ought to be mortified about riding with a man like this. But she couldn’t muster up any real emotion except a strange glimmer of satisfaction. What was it Myles had called her minutes or hours ago? Sleeping beauty. Did he really think her beautiful? She exhaled a soft sigh. Within the shelter of his arms, she felt safe, protected, comforted. If she weren’t so chilled, she might be content to ride in this fashion all the way to California.
“Delsie?”
Myles’s voice pierced her thoughts. “Yes?”
“Just making sure you’re awake.”
His concern brought a limp smile to her mouth. “Trying, truly.”
“Good,” he murmured, tightening his grip around her waist. She leaned back. A feeling of contentment drifted over her. She was powerless to keep her eyes open.
Sometime later she sensed a change in Myles’s voice. He was no longer telling her a story but talking urgently to Amos. “Are those lights up there? We’ve got to get her out of this weather. I can’t keep her awake.”
But I can hear you, she wanted to say. And yet, to speak the words out loud would take more energy and effort than she could muster.
“That’s Julesburg,” Amos was saying, “but we can’t stop there.”
“Why not?” Myles demanded.
Amos continued in his calm, unflustered way, “There’s been talk of trouble, outlaw trouble. We can’t afford to have the horses stolen.”
A breath of resignation washed over her, heavy with defeat and fear. “Fine. But we’ve got to pick up the pace, Amos, even in the rain. I don’t know how much longer she’ll last out here.”
I’ll be fine, she wanted to reply. No harm would come to her when she had someone as good and decent as Myles around. Before she could attempt to voice her thoughts, though, the blanket of sleepiness descended once more.
The next thing she knew she was being jostled awake by the sudden stopping of the horse and the absence of Myles behind her. Delsie pried her eyelids open wide enough to see a lantern cutting through the wet darkness.
“We need one of your dugouts,” Myles called to someone before he gently pulled Delsie from the saddle and settled her in his arms. Still cold and sleepy, she shut her eyes once more and rested her head against the crook of his neck. The bristles of his chin tickled her forehead as he carried her.
“Meat and coffee are needed, too.” The other person made a reply that was lost to Delsie, but she didn’t miss Myles’s thunderous answer. “I don’t care. The lady is sick, and we’ll pay you double for whatever you can rummage up.”
A grumbled murmur she took for consent drifted to her ears as Myles continued walking. A few moments later the battering rain disappeared, and she sensed she was no longer outside. With great effort, she opened her eyes. They were inside what she presumed must be a dugout. One wall butted up against a hillside and was comprised of solid dirt. The other three had been papered over entirely with newspaper.
“I’m going to set you down on the bed.” Myles eased her onto the lumpy tick mattress, then stepped back, his face full of concern in the lamplight. A stove in the middle of the room gave off some heat, but she still shivered. “You need to change out of those wet clothes.”
She nodded. “W-will you get m-my bag?”
“I’ll be right back with it. Stay put.”
Delsie nearly smiled. How would she possibly go anywhere on her shaky limbs? Besides, the fire, though weak, had begun to melt the frigid cold from her bones. There wasn’t anywhere else she wanted to be. Except maybe in Myles’s strong arms again. Her face flushed at the thought. Thank goodness he couldn’t read her mind.
Myles returned sooner than she’d expected and thrust the bag at her. Delsie forced her frozen fingers to close over it. “There’s no woman here to…to help you.”
“I—I can do it.”
He looked skeptical, but finally he gave her a curt nod and moved toward the door again. “I’ll be right outside.”
“Th-thank you, Myles.”
The moment the door was closed, Delsie scooted to the edge of the bed. She removed her other traveling dress from her bag, grateful to find it was still dry, and began the laborious process of peeling off her wet clothes. Her fingers shook so badly she could hardly make them work, but after several starts and stops, she had the dry gown on and the wet one laid over one of the boxes serving as a chair to the nearby table.
“Delsie?” A knock followed Myles’s call from the other side of the door.
“You can c-come back in.” Her teeth were chattering less and less, though she still felt chilled to the core despite the dry clothes.
Myles and Amos both ducked inside, their hands full. Elijah flew from Myles’s shoulder and alighted on the back of the only chair in the dugout. “We got the station owner to give us some coffee and some biscuits,” Myles explained as he and Amos set the food on the table.
“Sounds good.” When was the last time she’d eaten? Not since the jerky they’d shared when the rain had first started. She moved toward the table, but Myles shook his head, hi
s mouth a fierce line.
“You need to be in bed. You can eat there.”
Delsie wanted to argue, and yet, her knees had begun to tremble again. With a sigh, she woodenly moved to the bed and sat down. Myles dropped a large buffalo robe onto her lap and legs. Immediately the warmth began to thaw her.
“Here’s a biscuit and some coffee.” Amos handed her the food and cup. Then he and Myles took their seats on the boxes around the table.
Delsie lowered her chin and silently blessed the food before thanking the Lord for their safe arrival. She was too exhausted to insist both men join her in prayer tonight. When she opened her eyes, she found Myles watching her, a slightly amused spark in his dark eyes.
“You gonna say one for all of us?”
A jolt of surprise ran through her. He was inviting her to pray? “Of course.” She bent her head a second time and quietly repeated the words she’d just said. “Father, bless this food. Thank you for our safe arrival and for Your watchful hand over our journey. Bless us this night. In Thy Son’s name. Amen.”
The repeated amens, especially from Myles, filled her throat with a lump of gratitude that the coffee couldn’t quite wash down. She likely owed her life tonight to these two men.
She managed to drain her cup and finish off her biscuit before her energy began to wane once more. Lying down on her side, Delsie pulled the buffalo robe nearly to her chin. The fur smelled stale, but she wouldn’t begrudge its warmth.
At any minute, she expected Myles and Amos to head off to their own dugouts. A measure of loneliness filled her at the thought. The cold had eased considerably within her, but she still felt weak and vulnerable. Instead of leaving, though, once the food had been eaten and the lamp turned low, both men pulled more buffalo robes from the corner and spread them out on the dirt floor. Each one removed his boots and hat before lying down on his respective fur. Amos immediately shut his eyes.
“What are you doing?” Delsie asked Myles in a whisper. He’d taken the spot nearest the bed.
“Someone needs to keep the fire going all night.” He placed his hands behind his head, his gaze toward the ceiling. “My turn is first.”
Surprise, and tear-filled relief, washed over her. She tried to blink back the moisture, but a few droplets escaped her efforts and slid down her warm cheeks. Myles and Amos were going to keep the fire going all night for her.
Her father would be furious if he could see her now, sharing this small space with two men who’d been complete strangers to her less than a week ago. But Delsie couldn’t muster up any amount of embarrassment, only weariness and more tears.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden,” she admitted in a soft voice that wobbled with emotion. She’d been so determined to reach Lillie that she hadn’t stopped to think about what trouble a city girl such as herself might cause two seasoned riders.
“Delsie.” Her name sounded as much a chastisement as a gentle touch. Though the shadows hid his face, she still sensed that intense gaze leveled on her. “There aren’t many women who could’ve survived a single day of this kind of travel. Let alone five.” She watched him twist onto his side to face her. “Some Express riders haven’t even gone through half of what you have.”
The honest praise warmed her more successfully than either the fire or the heavy buffalo robe. “Maybe I’ll work for the Pony Express, then, after we’ve reached California,” she teased.
“I hope not.”
Delsie frowned. “But you just said—”
“I know.” His low chuckle made her pulse quicken. “I figure the rest of us will be out of a job if they hire you.”
She joined in his quiet laughter, smiling to herself at the implied compliment. “What would you do instead? If you weren’t an Express rider?”
Myles shifted onto his back again. “I’d be a horse rancher.” Delsie recalled his words from the other day about needing money to buy property. “Someday I’m going to own a big spread of land.” His earnest tone reached out and held her captive, painting images in her mind as he spoke. “I’ll build a nice big house on it with stables large enough to hold dozens of horses. Horses I’ll breed and sell. I’ve even got the name of the ranch.”
“What is it?”
“The B and P.”
Delsie pulled the robe higher. “I imagine the P stands for Patton. But what does the B stand for?”
“Brown. It was my parents’ last name.”
“But you took Charles’s name?”
Myles murmured agreement.
“He must a have been a wonderful father.”
“He was.” Both pride and pain colored his answer.
A strong urge to reach out and hold his hand swept through her. She understood the intense grief of losing a parent, and yet, Myles had lost three. Afraid he might not welcome her touch, though, she kept her hands buried beneath the robe and instead infused her next question with an empathetic tone. “What was he like?”
“Happy,” Myles said with another chuckle. “Always an optimist, no matter how bad things seemed. He was honest and kind, too.” He paused as if weighing whether to add something else to the list. “He was also God-fearing. Like you.”
She sensed what he didn’t add—Myles had been the same, at one time. It was easy to tell how much he admired Charles Patton. But did he see that he, too, was as trustworthy and caring as his stepfather had obviously been?
Before Delsie could give voice to her thoughts, a loud snore from Amos filled the dugout. She and Myles both laughed. With a grunt, Amos rolled onto his side. Quiet descended over the room once more.
“Tell me another story,” she prompted. She wasn’t ready to have their conversation over yet—Myles had talked more to her today than he had the past five days combined.
“About what?”
She thought a moment. “About Charles. What are your favorite memories of him?”
When Myles didn’t respond for a moment, she feared he would retreat back behind his typical gruffness. Then he cleared his throat. “All right. I can still remember the first time I met him…”
Delsie burrowed deeper beneath the buffalo robe as she listened. His deep voice soothed her exhaustion. She no longer felt bone-tired or cold but perfectly comfortable.
Sometime later the creak of the stove door startled her awake. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep. “What time is it?”
Myles lay back down on his makeshift bed. “Late.”
“I didn’t mean to fall—”
“Delsie,” he said cutting her off.
“Yes?” Was he upset that she hadn’t stayed awake?
“Go to sleep,” he said in a firm but kind tone.
“I can?” Even as she asked it, her eyelids refused to remain open.
“Yes, sleeping beauty.” His unseen smile permeated each word. “You’ll be fine now.”
You’ll be fine. Peace blanketed her at the heartfelt reassurance, as effectively as the heat from the stove. How long had it been since she’d felt such peace?
Rather ironic, she thought with a smile, as she snuggled deeper into the lumpy mattress. That peace would find her in a dirt house in the middle of Nebraska.
CHAPTER EIGHT
To Myles’s keen eye, his horse’s steady gallop had begun to lag. Time for another rest. “Amos?” he called. The older man, acting as lead today, twisted in the saddle to look at Myles. “Know where you want to rest?”
Amos pointed at the rock formation that had been in their sights the past thirty miles or so. “I heard there’s a spring near Chimney Rock. We can stop and water the horses there.”
Myles eyed the rock, which had grown increasingly taller the closer they came to it. It wasn’t the first unusual formation they’d seen today—they’d passed by two others that Amos had informed them were called Courthouse Rock and Jail Rock.
Judging by the surrounding terrain, Myles knew the flatness of the plains would soon be a distant memory. Not that he minded. The thought of the mountaino
us landscape Amos had explained lay ahead filled him with as much excitement as it did trepidation. There was so much of the West, and this country, he hadn’t expected to see. But now that he had a taste of what lay beyond his own Express run and Saint Joe, he couldn’t help wanting to experience more and more. In a way, traveling farther than he ever had before made his dream of a horse ranch feel a little more within reach.
“Are we stopping?” Delsie rode up beside him.
Myles nodded and pointed at Chimney Rock. “Amos says there’s a spring near the rock.”
“Oh good,” she said, turning to gaze at the formation. “I was hoping we might get close to it.”
Myles studied her profile, analyzing those beautiful features for any signs of fatigue. After their ordeal in the rain the night before, he had purposely slowed the pace of the horses on the first two stretches of their ride today to ensure she wouldn’t tire too easily. Once she figured out what he was doing, though, she’d insisted on returning to their normal speed.
If anything she looked more radiant this afternoon, her blue eyes bright as she took in the passing scenery, her lips curved in a slight smile. Or perhaps riding close with her last night and telling her stories from his life had addled his brain. Myles could almost believe it. Some of those stories he’d never told anyone, not even Cynthia, whom he’d known for years. But it was more than that. Despite his best efforts, Delsie was slowly picking her way through his defenses.
The fear he’d suffered last night when he thought she might not make it had felt as frigid and paralyzing as a snowstorm on the prairie. He would have done anything to help her. The last time he’d felt that way was when he’d watched Charles’s life slip away. Thankfully, Delsie had survived. The relief he’d experienced, knowing she would be all right, had been every bit as sweet as his anxiety had been bitter.
There was no doubt in his mind Delsie was a fighter. If he could find a woman like that, strong and determined, then perhaps he wouldn’t mind sharing his name and his dream of a ranch with someone else.