by Karen Kirst
“I received your telegram from Missouri. Who is this friend you detoured to visit?”
Delsie tucked an errant curl back into her chignon in a casual manner that belied the rapid thumping of her heart. “I’ll tell you all about it later. But first, I want to hear all the news of home.” She linked her arm through his.
“Not much in the way of news, but I do have a surprise.” He led her into the parlor, where a tall figure with dark hair stood with his back to the doorway. Backlit by the bright evening light, Delsie couldn’t tell who waited for her. Could it be Myles? Her pulse tripped faster and faster with hope. Had he learned her address from Amos and beaten her home?
Then the person turned and her hope shattered like glass.
“Flynn,” she said more brightly than she felt.
“Welcome home, Delsie.” He crossed the room to place a quick kiss on her cheek. She waited for the smattering of flurries in her middle or for some reaction at all. But she felt nothing. Worse, Flynn’s kiss succeeded in stirring memories in her mind of kissing Myles. “We’ve missed you,” he said, smiling fully at her.
“Have you?”
He chuckled as if she’d said something truly clever. “Of course. Two months is a long time to be away.”
Yes, she thought, it is. Long enough that she no longer felt at ease in her old life.
“Let us adjourn to the dining room for dinner,” Mr. Radford announced, patting her hand where it still held his arm.
Delsie nodded and woodenly followed him into the next room, where she took a seat beside him at the table, across from Flynn. She’d hoped her first evening back would include time alone with her father, to tell him everything simmering in her conscience. But it appeared she would have to wait until their guest left for the night.
The food tasted delicious. After weeks of stagecoach fare, the roast mutton and greens were better than anything she’d eaten since that first home station in Nebraska. Delsie ate every bite, including two helpings of Mrs. Kipling’s custard. Her appearance wasn’t the only thing to change during her journey West; her appetite had increased, too.
“You seem rather famished, my dear,” Mr. Radford remarked with a touch of censure and teasing. “Don’t they feed you on those coaches?”
Delsie blushed. “Yes, of course. It’s just that…I’ve missed Mrs. Kipling’s food.” Which was largely true. She would never take food, whatever its source, for granted again. “Did any correspondence come while I was away?”
He dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “Actually, there is. One from your aunt, though I can’t imagine what she’d have to say when you only just saw her. And another from someone named…Allan?” He shook his head. “No…it was…Amos.”
“Amos?” Delsie scrambled up from her chair and went to the buffet table, where the letters were kept on a silver platter. A letter from Amos lay on top of the stack. She picked it up and pressed it to her heart, suddenly able to breathe for the first time since entering the house. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll read it in my room.”
“Now?” Mr. Radford frowned. “Can’t it wait, Delsie? Flynn is here. And who’s this Amos person anyway?”
She placed a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry, Papa. I’ll explain everything soon. But I must read this letter. Please excuse me, Flynn.”
Flynn gave an obviously forced smile, but he dipped his head in acquiescence.
“Good night.” With that she hurried from the room and up the stairs, anxious for news of her friends. Once inside her bedroom, she flopped onto her stomach across the waist-high bed and tore open the letter.
The date was from a week earlier, from Guittard’s Station in Kansas.
Dearest Delsie,
I hope this letter finds you well and safely back home, after seeing your sister. Myles and I made the return trip a bit more slowly than the three of us did West. His injury has healed well, though he will likely bear a scar for the rest of his life. We both hope the reunion with your sister was all you’d hoped it would be.
I can’t say we didn’t miss your presence riding east. Moses was anxiously waiting for Myles when we returned to Rockwell’s. You’ll be pleased to know, too, that Myles and I still had our jobs with the Pony Express awaiting our return. I hope you’ll write when you’re able.
Your faithful servant,
Hank Amos
Delsie had forgotten his first name—to her, he would always be simply Amos. She read the letter through again, relieved to hear Myles was healthy once more and that she hadn’t cost either of them their jobs.
Taking a seat at her desk, she pulled out a clean stack of paper and began writing a letter back to Amos. She detailed her experiences that last day and night before finally reaching Lillie, the long travel back to Pennsylvania and how much she dearly missed her friends.
When she finished, she set the letter aside and stared at the next blank page. Should she write Myles? Amos hadn’t said that Myles wanted to correspond, as well. She picked up her pen, then set it down once more. Better to leave what had passed between them behind. No good could come from trying to continue something that would never come to fruition, as long as her father held to his stubborn opinions. But there was one thing she was determined to change his mind about—her marrying Flynn.
An hour or so later, Delsie waited unseen at the top of the stairs while her father walked Flynn to the door. Once the man had departed and her father had retired to the parlor, she finally descended. Cheery lamplight lit the parlor and reflected off the beveled glass of her father’s book cupboard. He glanced up from his reading as she entered the room and took a seat in the armchair opposite his.
“Flynn departed.” He stuck his finger in his book. “I think you may have disappointed him by scurrying off to your room so quickly after dinner.”
Delsie leaned back against the familiar softness of the chair. “If I offended him in any way, I am truly sorry.”
Mr. Radford nodded and opened his book again. “I’ll invite him for dinner tomorrow night and you can apologize to him then.”
“Actually…” Delsie licked her lips, her heart racing. It was her moment to be strong. “I’d rather you didn’t invite him.”
The book closed with a sudden clap. “Why ever not?”
She straightened in her chair. “Because I don’t love Flynn. And I will never love him.” She tucked her shaking hands demurely in her lap. “I know that now.”
“But it’s an excellent match,” he protested. “With your beauty and inheritance and his business sense, he can take over the bank for me. You would be set up very comfortably for life, Delsie.”
“That may be true, but I won’t trade my happiness for it. I can’t marry where I feel no love.”
His brows lowered in consternation. “Is that what all these weeks at your aunt’s has done? Turned you as rebellious as…” He visibly swallowed and glanced away, unwilling or unable to say Lillie’s name.
“I will not defy you as Lillie did,” Delsie said in a gentle tone. “But I will not marry Flynn, either.”
“Aren’t they one in the same?” he countered, his voice more weary than angry.
She shook her head. “No, because I won’t leave you, either.” She reached forward and rested her hand against his where it gripped his knee. “We will simply have to find another suitor who can provide for me, but one whom I love, too.”
He blew out his breath in a resigned sigh. “Very well. You know I’ve never been good at refusing you anything or staying angry at you for long.”
A lump of emotion filled her throat. Her father was a good man, even if he and Lillie had both reacted badly to her choice to follow Clay. “I’m glad to hear I still have some sway.” She threw him a teasing smile that made him laugh lightly. “Because I have something else to confess.”
He chuckled once more and ran a hand over his eyes. “I don’t know that I can take any more revelations tonight, dear daughter.”
“Just one more.” Though it was l
ikely to upset him far more than her announcement about Flynn.
He finally nodded for her to continue.
Delsie’s heart resumed its harried pace as she sat back and clasped her hands together. “I’ve been to see Lillie, Papa.”
“Lillie?” He smirked with disbelief. “That’s impossible. Your sister is, who knows where, in California.”
“I know where she is. I found her letters. In your desk.”
The startled merriment drained from his face, leaving it looking haggard. “When did you find them?”
Delsie kept her chin up. “Right before I went to Aunt Cissy’s.” Stony silence met her words. “Please don’t be angry at me for discovering them. I’ve been so anxious to hear from her, to know she’s all right.”
Mr. Radford glanced away, staring into the light of the lamp. “I probably shouldn’t have kept them from you. But I worried that you…you might wish to leave, too, if your sister put it into your head to follow after her.” She could tell the words cost him to say.
Delsie waited for him to look at her again. “I am not like Lillie, or you,” she added tenderly. “I told you I would never leave you to go live far away, and I intend to keep my word. But it isn’t right to keep Lillie from me. Or from us. She is sorry for the way she handled things. She loves you, and I’m sure she would welcome your blessing on her marriage to Clay.”
“So she finally up and married that farmer, did she?” He sniffed. “Did she write and tell you that? About her and the Weeks boy and about being sorry?”
“No.” Delsie shook her head. “She told me in person about her being sorry and that she loves you. And as far as the wedding…” She swallowed her dry throat and plunged on. “I was there. That’s what I meant when I said I’d been to see Lillie.”
His jaw went slack as he gaped at her, his expression one of confusion. “That’s where you’ve been all these weeks?”
“Actually, no.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I stayed with Aunt Cissy for two weeks, then traveled to California over the course of nineteen days, where I witnessed Lillie and Clay’s wedding. Then the next day I boarded the stage to return here. So theoretically, I was only with Lillie for a day.”
He bent forward, frowning, his forearms on his knees. “I don’t understand.”
She released a shaky breath. “I should probably start at the beginning.”
“That would be preferred.”
In a voice that became stronger the more she confided, Delsie shared the details of Lillie’s last letter and about her plan to reach her sister in time by using the Pony Express as escort.
“Alone?” Mr. Radford bellowed. “Without a chaperone? Were you out of your mind, Delsie?”
She calmly shook her head—she’d known there would be many parts to this story he would not like. “I was in my right mind. Only anxious to get to Lillie and let her know I cared before she left for Oregon.” She gave him a patient smile. “And I was not alone. I was in the company of two gentlemen. An Express rider and a guide.”
He muttered something inaudible beneath his breath and lumbered to his feet.
“Please, Papa. Sit down. There’s more to tell.”
“I prefer to stand, thank you.” He began pacing the rug in front of her. “Or rather…walk. Especially if all your exposés prove to be as distressing as this first one.”
Doing her best to ignore his agitation, Delsie explained the necessary changes to her plan in order to arrive in California on time. She told him about soliciting Amos’s help and Myles’s agreement to continue on, as well. She shared the things she’d seen on her way Westward, the daily routine, the purchasing of the new horses and the change in landscape from prairies to mountains to desert.
There were things she left off mentioning, though, especially her feelings for Myles. When she got to the part about needing to continue on alone, she simply shared that an injury to one of her party meant she had to ride the rest of the way to Lillie’s by herself. She did tell her father about losing her horse and spraining her ankle, but how in spite of such challenges, she was still able to make it on time to the wedding.
“Lillie looked so beautiful and happy. I wish you could have seen her.” Delsie blinked back the sheen of tears the memories brought to her tired eyes. “Clay will take care of her, I can promise you that, and she will care for him. It was wonderful to see them both.”
He’d quit his pacing to come stand beside her chair, his hands clasped behind his back. “Thank you for detailing your experience. However…”
Delsie lifted her chin to look at him. “However?”
“You mean to tell me you traveled across the entire country without incident, beyond losing a horse and twisting your ankle?” He narrowed his gaze. “You suffered no other risk to life or limb?”
“No.” The word came out no louder than a whisper, but it carried the weight of all the incidences when she might have been killed. Delsie glanced away.
“Ah, I see. So I am right.” Mr. Radford marched away from her chair again. “I need to know everything, Delsie. Please.”
She studied her hands. Most of the blisters had long since faded, as had the freckles on her skin from days in the sun, but they looked different from the way they had before she’d left all those weeks ago. They were hands capable of hard work and comfort. Hands that had held those of the man she loved, hands that had been protected by him, as well.
“I nearly fell to my death on a runaway horse,” she said, her voice low. “And later, was almost assaulted by a group of trappers. Myles…Mr. Patton…came to my aid both times.”
“Is that all?” His tone, though firm, couldn’t hide the heartbreak she sensed in him at hearing she’d come so close to being hurt.
Delsie shook her head and gave a humorless laugh. “I took very ill riding through a storm one night and we barely escaped a flash flood in the desert.” Telling these accounts, independent of the overall story of her journey, brought home their seriousness in a way she hadn’t felt quite as keenly when going through them. “We were also attacked by Indians.”
“What?” he barked. “Is that what happened to the rider?”
Memories of that day raced through her mind and Delsie shivered. “Mr. Patton held them off, but he was struck with an arrow in his shoulder.”
“And did he…”
Delsie blew out a breath, sharp relief coursing through her once again. “No, he’s recovered. Amos told me so in the letter I read tonight.”
He returned to his seat, his hands draped loosely between his knees. “Anything else?”
“That’s all.” Except for her realization that she loved Myles, but there was little point in sharing such news. “And I’m here now—safe and well.”
Silence accompanied her words for nearly a minute. Finally her father stirred from his statue-like position to run a hand over his face. Delsie hadn’t seen him look so full of despair since the death of her mother.
“What is it?” she asked, kneeling beside him.
He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “I had no idea my stubbornness would drive you to do something…so…so dangerous. You might have been killed, Delsie.”
She rested her arm on his knee. “But I wasn’t. I wouldn’t have gone, especially without your permission, if I hadn’t felt it was right and that I would somehow make it.”
“There’s that rock-solid faith again,” he murmured, shooting her a patronizing smile.
“Yes, but not just in God. I have faith in you and Lillie, too.”
He took her hand inside his and squeezed it. “I was wrong about Lillie. I shouldn’t have driven her away like that. But I…” He pressed his mouth into a tight line before continuing, “I feared what might happen to her. If she stayed close by, and married who I thought she should, then I could protect her, keep her safe. Unlike your mother.”
“Oh, Papa.” She gave his hand a squeeze in return. “You can’t keep anything and everything bad from happening, even to those you lo
ve. But we can pray and trust in the Lord that He will make all things right in the end. Just as things have been made right this time.”
“Have they all been made right?” His searching gaze made Delsie wonder if he could read what she hadn’t shared.
She pulled her hand back and turned to rest her back against the settee. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“What happened to those two men?” he asked as he sat back.
“They…um…returned to their jobs at the different Express stations. The one in Kansas and the other in Missouri.” She didn’t dare look at him, afraid he’d see the longing on her face at the thought of Myles.
“And will you be writing to them?”
The conversation had taken a disastrous turn. Delsie couldn’t bear the idea of hearing him say out loud that he didn’t approve of Myles, that a marriage to an Express rider from Missouri would mean leaving him without any family nearby.
“I believe I shall correspond with Amos,” she said brightly. “He’s rather lonely with his wife gone and no children.” She stood and shook out her skirt. “I believe I’ll retire now. It’s been a long day.”
Pretending she didn’t see his questioning look, she bent and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Papa. It’s wonderful to be home.”
“Good night, Delsie.” He picked up his neglected book and rubbed at the cover. “Thank you for telling me your story. And for doing what you felt you must to keep the family together.”
“You’re welcome.” She moved toward the door, but she turned when he called her back, her heart jolting with sudden dread.
His attention had returned to the open page. “With all that traveling, are you sure you’re content to be home now?” The question sounded innocent enough, though Delsie couldn’t help feeling as if he were really asking something else. Something she wasn’t ready to voice—perhaps she never would be.