His words went straight to her heart. It had taken Sammy’s tragic accident, the death of her own dream, and an Indian attack to show her that she was right where she belonged. Always had been. “You’re right, Sammy. We’re a family and this is our home.”
She bowed her head. “I think I first loved you, Jacob, when you saved Sammy. Somehow I didn’t see you before then.”
Jacob lifted her chin. “I know.” His gaze met hers. “So is that a yes?”
Abigail melted into his arms, felt their strength encircle her. She closed her eyes and pressed her head against his chest. It was exactly where she belonged. “Yes.”
Chapter Twelve
That night, back in her own room, Abigail lay on her bed, her mind swooping from thought to thought like a bat after insects. She wanted to tell her mother about Jacob and how much they loved each other. Get advice about what it was like to be married. Confess how silly she’d been about Rocky.
But she had no mother to talk to, except God.
“Jacob proposed today. I’m a little scared. Mostly I’m excited, but there’s so much I don’t know.” Abigail paused as the words sorted themselves on her tongue. “I am still angry at Rocky. He lied. Why did he do that? To steal a kiss? That’s what Sammy thinks. I’m really, really, really glad I didn’t let him, because now I don’t have anything to confess to Jacob. He’ll kiss me soon, and it will be perfect, and—oh, dear—I’ve never kissed anyone. What if it’s not perfect for him?”
Although alone in the darkness of her room, Abigail’s face flushed. What did she know about kissing or, well, the other stuff? She silenced her thoughts and waited for a response. Her ears did not detect any sounds, but her heart received the message, You will figure it out together. He wants your love, not your experience.
There was no message about Rocky.
Abigail awoke early. She dressed then checked on Sammy in the guest room. His rhythmic breathing indicated he slept, so she hurried outside as the sun slowly brightened the eastern sky. A ride in the desert would start the day right.
Jacob stomped his feet in an effort to stay warm as he held Blaze and Flash’s reins outside the barn. What if Abigail didn’t wake early this morning? Maybe she’d had a hard time falling asleep, like he had, and wouldn’t rise early. He could toss pebbles at her window. No. That was a selfish thought. Wake her to satisfy his desire to see her and to ride in the desert with her? No. He’d wait. They would ride together, if not this morning, then another.
Because she’d said yes.
He lifted his eyes skyward and again prayed. “Thank You, Father. Every good gift is from Thee, every good thing in my life, and my heart overfloweth with joy.” His freedom to choose had changed everything, but the biggest impact was in understanding that God’s plan for his life wasn’t a narrow path with no options. He’d read Proverbs 16 again that morning, and verse 9 stuck with him: “A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the LORD directeth his steps.”
Without movement, there were no steps to direct. Jacob would remain still no longer.
Abigail emerged from the kitchen door and Jacob’s heart stuttered at the sight of her. Her smile widened as she drew near.
“Going somewhere?” A light danced in her eyes.
“With you—if you want me to.” He wanted to hear her say yes again.
Hooves sounded from the trail before she answered. An incoming Express rider? None was expected.
“Here.” Jacob handed the reins to Abigail. “I don’t have a pony ready.” Instinctively, he sprinted toward the corral, then remembered the mustang herd was gone, scattered by the Indian attack. Even the Thoroughbreds kept for the stagecoach had been plundered by the Paiutes. Blaze and Big Red had been locked in their stalls, or they might have been missing as well. How Flash didn’t get caught up in the stampede was just shy of a miracle, perhaps aided by his attachment to Abigail. Should he saddle the pony for the Express rider? No, Abigail’s favorite horse would not become part of a herd in someone else’s corral. What about Blaze? He should check with Frank, but he needed to hurry.
Big Red? Thoroughbreds were completely unsuitable. Which brought him back to either Flash or Blaze.
The rider dismounted in typical Pony Express fashion, with a bit of flourish, as the mustang skidded to a stop.
Rocky ran toward them. “Abigail! Jacob! I came back as fast as I could. You’re alive. What a relief.” He looked around. “Is Sammy okay? Frank?”
“We all survived, but our horses are gone.” Jacob relaxed. Rocky didn’t have the mochila with him. No mounts were needed at the moment.
“There’s likely a couple of ponies around. I can help round them up after breakfast.” Rocky approached Abigail. He raised an eyebrow. “Looks like I’m in time for your morning ride.”
Jacob wanted to stand in front of Abigail as a barrier between her and this yahoo who had hurt her. It was foolishness on his part. Rocky’s words were his weapon, not his physical presence. What was it about this guy that made him forget he was a Christian?
Abigail scowled at Rocky, her eyes narrowed. “You saw we were in trouble and left anyway. I don’t care what kind of oath you took. You don’t just ride away like that when people’s lives are at stake.”
“But I came back.”
“Not to help us fight. What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry, Abby. I’ve been sick with worry. Forgive me?” He smiled. His blue eyes met her gaze. “Let’s go for a ride.” He reached for the reins.
Jacob clenched his jaw, but stood back. If Abigail was still infatuated with the Express rider, it was better to know it now. He diverted his gaze to the sun-bathed desert, painted in early morning shades of red, orange, and yellow. An eagle soared high above, but no breeze stirred below. Rocky’s pony snorted.
“Come on, Abby. I’ll race you to the outcropping.” Rocky gazed into her eyes.
Abigail folded her arms across her chest. “I forgive you for riding away, Rocky. It’s your job to deliver that mochila. I can’t say I understand how you could do it, but”— she turned her gaze toward Jacob—“I respect a man who takes his job seriously.”
Rocky’s smile widened. He stood a bit taller.
Jacob swallowed hard. Had trouble breathing.
She turned back to Rocky. “But what about lying to me?” Abigail jabbed Rocky with a finger, punctuating her words. “You lied to me about that cabin, about knowing where it was, about meeting my relatives.”
Rocky’s smile evaporated. He looked at the ground, then back to Abigail. “Uh, what are you talking about?”
“I wanted a connection with my mother, and you wanted a kiss. Well, guess what? I got my connection and it doesn’t have anything to do with a cabin in the woods. And you can have your kiss.” Abigail slapped Rocky across the face.
Rocky stumbled backward. His hand went to his cheek.
She shook her hand as if to rid it of the sting. “Consider yourself forgiven for the lies.”
Jacob thought he loved her before, but this woman in front of him was stronger than he knew, and his heart expanded with respect for her. He wanted to whoop, “Yippee, Abby!” but instead, he picked her up and spun her around. “I love you, Abigail Robertson.”
Her laughter skipped across the desert. “I love you, too, Jacob—oh! I don’t know your last name.”
Instead of answering her as she thought he would, Jacob set her down. His gaze went beyond her.
She looked toward the kitchen. Sammy stood in the doorway.
“Wait!” she called. “I’m coming. What do you need?” He was probably desperate to use the outhouse or needed a drink. What if he fell and bumped his head? The doctor said even a slight thump could be devastating.
She hadn’t expected him to wake up so early, but then, her shouting at Rocky might have something to do with that.
“Abby, I can see.”
“What?” Abigail stopped running as she processed his words.
“I can make out Jacob with
you, right? And who else? Not Pa. Where’s Pa?” Sammy squinted as he stepped forward. “Is that you, Rocky?”
Feelings flooded Abigail. Joy. Wonder. Gratitude. Relief. She ran to him, tugging Jacob with her. “Sammy! I’m so happy.” She hugged him until he pulled away.
“It isn’t exactly right, yet. The light kind of hurts.” Sammy rubbed his eyes, then blinked them several times rapidly. “Things are blurry, but maybe the doctor is right after all.”
“Oh, I’m so glad, glad, glad. I could kiss your whole face.”
Sammy leaned away. “Um, like you just ‘kissed’ Rocky? No thanks.” He pointed at Rocky and rubbed his face in mock pain.
The Express rider mounted his pony and rode away.
Jacob patted Sammy’s shoulder. “Frank is going to want to know about this. How about I walk with you to find him?”
“I can see, Jacob. I can find him myself.”
“I know, but like you said, things are blurry.”
Abigail’s smile felt wider than her face. “I’ll put the horses back in their stalls.” Her gaze met Jacob’s. “But we’ll ride tomorrow morning?”
He nodded. “And every morning hereafter.”
Barbara Tifft Blakey lives in the Pacific Northwest on five wooded acres with Terry, her husband of forty-plus years. She is best known for her award-winning, literature-inspired language arts program, Total Language Plus, which she created over twenty years ago and is used by thousands of homeschoolers. Barbara teaches Sunday school and enjoys speaking on various topics to Christian women’s groups. She and her husband have four grown children and five grandchildren. She enjoys camping at the ocean and is an avid soccer fan. During the daylight-challenged winter months, she reads, crochets, bakes, and plots her next novel.
An Unlikely Hero
by Mary Davis
Dedication
Dedicated to my Tuesday Critique Buddies—Suzanne, Lael, Alicia, Erin, & Kim. Your input, encouragement, and support are awesome.
But the LORD said unto Samuel, “Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for [the LORD seeth] not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the LORD looketh on the heart.”
1 SAMUEL 16:7
Chapter One
June 1861
No one would likely be following them tonight. BethAnn White tightened her hold around her twelve-year-old sister as the eastbound stagecoach came to a lurching stop.
The driver called down, “Head of Echo Canyon Stagecoach and Pony Express Station. We’ll stay here for the night. See the stationmaster for a bed.”
BethAnn accepted the offered hand and stepped down from the stage, then turned to help Molly. She gazed in the direction they’d come from. The sun was just dipping behind the western ridge.
“Heads up!” the driver called.
BethAnn looked up in time to catch Molly’s carpetbag as it was tossed down and then caught her own. “Thank you.”
He nodded to her.
She heard rapidly approaching hoofbeats but couldn’t tell what direction they were coming from in the dimming evening light. The sound bounced off the canyon walls, making the sound appear to be coming from everywhere.
“Rider coming in!” someone yelled. That, too, bounced around and came from everywhere.
This could be exciting to see a Pony Express rider exchange. She searched the area around her. Where was Molly?
The hoofbeats grew louder, and station personnel scurried around. Men came from the station building the stage was parked in front of as well as from the barn across the yard. A man led out a saddled horse. A strange saddle. More like the skeleton of a saddle.
Molly would not want to miss this. Where was she? BethAnn stepped out in front of the stagecoach team and saw the outline of the rider racing in from the east.
Then she saw her.
Her baby sister.
Her only family.
In the path of a several-hundred-pound charging animal.
Molly stood frozen, staring at the oncoming beast.
BethAnn screamed, “Molly!”
The horse was nearly upon her sister. The rider couldn’t see her with the setting sun in his eyes.
BethAnn launched in her sister’s direction, but someone grabbed her arm, yanking her back.
The rider must have finally seen Molly and reined in the horse. The animal skidded then reared up over Molly. The rider held on.
A shadow from the night swooped in and caught hold of Molly, and the pair rolled across the ground out of the way of the stomping hooves.
The agitated horse pranced around in a circle. Three men approached cautiously with calming words.
BethAnn wrestled free from the muscular man who had grabbed her and bolted toward her sister.
The shadow was a small, red-haired man in a black canvas duster. He had wrapped his arms around Molly, protecting her as they rolled. He still covered her, shielding her with his body.
“Molly!”
The man didn’t release her sister. “Is the horse settled?”
BethAnn glanced at the horse. “Three men have hold of it.”
The man loosened his arms and rolled onto his back, freeing Molly.
BethAnn fell to her knees on the dusty ground and scooped her weeping sister into her arms. She couldn’t lose Molly, too. Molly was all the family she had left.
The man sat up and bent his knees, resting his arms on them. “Is she all right?”
“I think so. Just scared.” BethAnn reached out her bare hand and gripped the gloved one of the man. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you for saving my sister.” She brought his hand up and pressed her cheek to it. “Thank you.”
He just stared at her. He probably thought she had come unhinged, with the number of times she’d said thank you, and feared she’d start crying, too.
“Fox!” Wayne, the stationmaster, hollered. “Get over here. Time to get in the saddle.”
The mail would not wait.
Fox rose to his feet but left his hand in the beauty’s.
She squeezed his fingers. “Thank you.”
His heart, which was already racing from the excitement and his run to save the girl from being trampled, sped up even more. This woman was truly grateful. He couldn’t remember a time when anyone showed him gratitude. Mostly just got teased on account of his puny size. No one thought he could do anything or that he was worth much. Not even his own family.
She released his hand. He wanted her to take it back.
“Fox! Do I need to get another rider?”
That brought him back. He snatched up his hat and slapped it on his thigh as he backed up, not wanting to turn away from the pair. He did finally turn, jog, and spring up into the saddle. With a slap of the reins, Juniper leaped into motion and soon ran her full speed.
Though the light waned quickly, Fox knew every inch of the trail between Head of Echo Canyon and Salt Lake City then back again. He’d been riding this stretch for over a year. The trip to Salt Lake City was usually a night run unless the incoming rider was either early or late, depending on the weather. And the return trip was in the cool of the morning, till the sun beat down hot.
He let his mind wander back to the girl and her beautiful sister. She had been so grateful.
His hands had quit shaking. But why had they shaken so? He’d been under a rearing horse before and gotten out of the way. Why was this time different? They hadn’t started shaking until it was all over and the woman had thanked him. Was it her gratitude? Her beauty could send any man into uncertainty and make him wobbly. Just enough light to see that her hair was golden and in a braided rope over her shoulder. But not enough light to distinguish the color of her eyes. He wished he knew. But he never would.
He was so stupid. When Wayne had asked him if he should get another rider, why hadn’t he said yes? Then he could have stayed at the station and at least learned her name. She would be well on her way east by the time he ret
urned.
He realized that Halfway Station was just ahead. A dim light shone in the distance. Maybe he could tell Leroy about his spill, claim he was injured after all, and have another rider take over this run. Then he could return to Head of Echo and maybe talk with the beauty before the stage left in the morning with her on it.
And discover what color her eyes were.
BethAnn took Molly inside the station. They would have to stay the night. The Pony Express riders might race through the night, but the stagecoaches weren’t fast enough to outrun an attack. And in the dark, attackers could be on them before they knew it. Also, the driver couldn’t see the road or direction in the dark. It was far too dangerous for the stages to travel at night.
She walked over to the stationmaster’s desk. “The stagecoach driver said you’d assign us beds.”
The keeper’s serious expression when he lifted his head quickly melted, and he studied Molly. “Are you all right? That must have really scared you.”
Molly clung to BethAnn’s side and bobbed her head.
The stationmaster smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.” He held out his hand to BethAnn. “I’m Wayne Greenberg.”
BethAnn shook his large, strong hand. “I’m BethAnn White. This is my sister, Molly.”
“We’re pleased to have you staying with us tonight. Supper will be served shortly. I haven’t had time to rustle something up. It won’t be as good as my wife’s, but I promise it will be edible.”
A guffaw sounded behind her, and BethAnn turned.
The strong, broad-shouldered man who had held her back from her sister when the Pony Express rider raced in stood in the doorway to another room with tables. “You call that slop cooking?”
“Well, you haven’t died from it. Nor anyone else.”
“Just cuz it don’t kill us don’t make it edible.”
BethAnn liked the teasing between these two men. “Doesn’t your wife cook for the station?”
The Pony Express Romance Collection Page 7