The Pony Express Romance Collection

by Blakey, Barbara Tifft; Davis, Mary; Franklin, Darlene

  Chapter Four

  Chip folded his hands in front of him as he lingered by the door. He watched her read the delicate pages, neither surprised nor embarrassed to witness tears fall from her eyes.

  He knew the others were watching as well—that Stanford fellow especially. It was ridiculous for Chip to form such an instant dislike of the man, especially since the cause was pure and simple jealousy. Chip wished the man would disappear, even though he looked as if he wasn’t going anywhere—and no one else expected him to leave, either.

  Chip knew he was the only one without the real right to stay, but there was no missing the fact that the letter was shaking Adora to the core. If ever a woman needed a strong embrace, it was now. But Stanford just stood there. Didn’t he see what this young woman needed? So Chip stepped closer as she turned what he knew to be the last page. Then, as if by silent but mutual accord, she turned to him just as he knew she would, and cried onto his shoulder. Her tears didn’t reach any higher than the empty pocket that had guarded the letter so far, but that seemed only appropriate.

  “Are you sure you brought good news, young man?” called the woman whose name was on the boardinghouse sign outside.

  “Indeed,” he said with a smile, still holding Adora in his arms.

  Adora knew she oughtn’t cling to this man, this stranger, but was helpless to do otherwise. She’d thought herself forever lost to her family, and this man had just brought news that all of her beliefs were wrong. They did love her! Not only had they forgiven her for running off, rejecting them, but Mother said Father knew he needed to ask forgiveness. A miracle, certainly, especially given his signature at the bottom—his hand had been steady and sure, in accordance with all Mother had said.

  “Th—thank you, sir,” she sniffled, pulling back at last and wiping the tears dampening her face. But the effort would be ineffective until she stopped crying altogether, which she strove to do now. “I’m sure you can guess how much it means to know my family hasn’t forsaken me.”

  “Glad to be of service,” he murmured, remaining closer than polite distance called for, but Adora didn’t move away, either.

  “If it’s good news, it’s time for cake!” announced Roseleen. “The good Lord knew we’d have something to celebrate today, that’s for certain. So come into the dining room.”

  She disappeared then, and Adora almost followed to help, but Dirk approached, taking a hand to pull her close while putting an arm about her still-trembling shoulders. She clutched at the letter; it was as precious to her as the stranger seemed to think. Adora stole another look at him, even though she could feel Dirk so close she ought to have acknowledged his happiness for her.

  But instead she looked at this other man. A swell of gratitude rose, and admiration, for his task. Who knew if she would ever have learned how her parents felt? They hadn’t followed this letter with another, perhaps hurt that she’d ignored their plea to come home. Surely they knew the Pony Express was the most reliable way to send a letter, never doubting it had reached her.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, sir.” She freed her hand from Dirk’s and extended it to the stranger. How reassuring his strength and steadiness had felt, when she’d been so dizzy with surprise and joy and relief. “May I know your name?”

  “Chip Nolan.” He held her hand firmly yet gently. She’d felt that in his embrace, too: surrounding her in strength while somehow acknowledging her need for tenderness.

  “We’re very grateful for your help,” said Dirk, who slid his hand from her shoulders down to her elbow. “Perhaps we can reward you? Monetarily, that is?”

  Adora’s heart dropped. She hadn’t thought of that. She didn’t have much money saved. Her mind jumped to new expenses. She hadn’t anywhere near the amount it would cost for the next stagecoach east. Her parents might send her the money if she asked, but wouldn’t it be best if she came home on her own effort, so they would know she’d chosen to return of her own accord, not out of desperation?

  Still, Mr. Nolan deserved something!

  “No compensation is necessary,” Mr. Nolan said to Dirk. “I’ve been able to combine my mission with some work that couldn’t have been done except through travel. It’s been a benefit all around.”

  “I’ll go in and see if Roseleen needs help,” Adora said, “then join you in the dining room.”

  She hurried through the hallway leading to the kitchen, where she found Roseleen just filling the teapot. Upon seeing the older woman’s smile, Adora clapped the letter to her heart. “Oh, Roseleen, this is the most wonderful news. My parents want me to come home!” Then she put the letter on the kitchen table, gently flattening it to its original state, or as close as she could with such delicate pages.

  Roseleen replaced the empty kettle on the stovetop then drew Adora close and patted her back. “Of course they do! What kind of mother and father would turn their backs on a daughter? Not the sort that raised you, I’m sure.”

  “Well…I did run away,” she said, looking at the letter as if she could hardly believe it was there.

  Roseleen added cups to the tea tray then slid the plate holding the cake toward Adora for her to carry. “You must have had a good reason to come all the way out here. Though I’ll miss you if you do go back. It’ll mean kitchen duty for me again, won’t it?”

  Adora giggled as she picked up the cake and followed Roseleen. “You could always serve cake morning, noon, and night. Or you might see if Jed likes to cook. That would be one way to keep him close by.”

  To that, Roseleen guffawed so heartily it was a miracle she didn’t drop the tea tray.

  Chip hid a smile behind his teacup as he watched Adora. She was even prettier than the picture his eager imagination had drawn. She’d just recounted how she’d learned to cook right here at Roseleen’s, admitting her gratitude for the limited menu. Since she’d eaten all the items over the years, at least she knew how they were supposed to look.

  She may have run away from family, but it occurred to him as he watched her laugh with Roseleen and the older gentleman called Jed that she’d found a new family here. That was the nature of someone who found family important, just as Chip himself did.

  Then his gaze slid reluctantly to Stanton. Was the man always so quiet? He’d barely spoken since offering the reward—a gesture that revealed his right to be as grateful to him as Adora herself. Still, Chip watched for signs of their intimacy, though so far all he’d seen was cordiality.

  “You ain’t gonna leave us for good, are you, Miss Denley?” asked Jed when there was a lull in the conversation. “You ought to go back east only long enough to pack up your family and bring ’em back here. I never been to Ohio myself, but I hear tell the north part gets mighty cold in winter and too hot in summer.”

  Roseleen nudged Jed’s rib with her elbow. “And we never have any discomforts here? Like the wind and the fog?”

  “Hush, now, Rosie, I’m trying to get her to come back for your sake.”

  “Perhaps Adora’s family is well grounded in Ohio,” said Stanford. “Not every family can easily leave one area of the country for another. As a matter of fact, I’ve been hoping to accompany Adora back east myself. Now it appears I may have the opportunity soon.”

  Chip’s gaze shot to Adora, wishing Stanford had kept to his initial quiet. He fairly oozed hopes of his future with Adora, reminding Chip he ought to finish the tea and leave. Sitting in his own silent adoration of her wasn’t doing him any good, especially knowing she was already taken. He’d get over her, but the only way to start was to get up and go.

  “Thank you for the refreshment,” he said, putting his cup back on the table. “But I ought to be on my way.” He stood, unable to keep his gaze from finding Adora’s. “I wish you every happiness, miss—and a safe journey home.”

  She quickly set her own tea aside then stood as well, reaching out. He hesitated to take her hand but not because he didn’t want to. He did, all too much.

  “This hardly seems en
ough compensation for your trouble, Mr. Nolan. How can I thank you for delivering my letter? Will you be in town long?”

  He hadn’t taken her hand, so he needed to employ his own to keep it from touching hers. He stroked the side of his face. He did have an errand he could do for the sake of his uncle who’d told him he would have a job for Chip if he came back with information about towns with promising commercial opportunities. But Chip had already been doing that while looking for Adora these last few days. He could leave first thing in the morning.

  However, looking into her eyes, he knew he wouldn’t. “A few days.”

  “Then you must come to dinner, or luncheon,” she said. “I never boast about my own cooking, brief as my career has been, but I’d like to do something to show my gratitude.”

  Roseleen stood, too. “She makes the best minced meat patties in town. But then, we never get complaints about any of Adora’s cooking, so you’d be missing a good meal if you refuse, Mr. Nolan.”

  “Very well,” he said, vaguely aware Stanford looked none too pleased. “Tomorrow, then?”

  “Come for the noon meal, Mr. Nolan,” said Roseleen. “I’ll make sure Adora can sit down with you.”

  “And with me,” said Stanford with a possessive smile. “I cannot wait to celebrate with you.”

  Chip had no desire to share Adora with this man’s company, but if that was the only way to bask in Adora’s presence, so be it. “Tomorrow, then.”

  Chapter Five

  Monday morning flew by for Adora as she cooked a record number of breakfasts. She had renewed energy since reading, then rereading, her mother’s letter. Adora was going home just as soon as she could afford to do so. She was too happy at the unexpected turn of events to worry about details yet.

  At eleven thirty, as the lunch crowd was beginning to saunter in, both Jed and Roseleen entered the kitchen.

  “You go on upstairs and brush your hair, missy,” said Roseleen as she put on an apron. “Jed has agreed to help, so you’ll have the entire afternoon to yourself. After all, I’ve got to get used to doing without your help, haven’t I?”

  Adora nearly squealed with delight. “Oh! Thank you! Thank you both.”

  Then she hurried to her room and did more than just tend to her hair. She scrubbed away any evidence that she’d spent the morning flipping flapjacks and sizzling eggs, changed her clothes, and re-pinned her hair. Sharing lunch with two men as handsome as Dirk and Mr. Nolan was a novelty, making her more than just twice as jittery. She didn’t take time to contemplate why that was so; she only hoped she could calm herself enough to be good company.

  Chip took the stairs two at a time to Roseleen’s porch, finding his way inside through the open door then following the general din of conversation to the dining room. He was early by fifteen minutes but couldn’t wait any longer. Putting Adora’s face to everything else he knew about her had rendered him unable to think of anything but her.

  She wasn’t in the busy dining room, and he marveled that a woman with an obviously genteel background had taken so well to such work. Perhaps Roseleen would take her place at the stove while Adora slipped out to dine with him…and, unfortunately, Stanford.

  Instead of seeing Adora delivering a tray, he spotted the older man he’d met yesterday. Jed caught sight of Chip as he delivered the food to waiting customers then waved Chip to an empty table in the corner.

  “This one’s for you, Mr. Nolan,” said Jed, looking past Chip as if in search of the others. “I know Adora will be down soon, and Stanford is always on time—never late, but never early, neither. Kinda peculiar if you ask me, like he’s starin’ at his pocket watch all the time.”

  “An admirable quality,” Chip murmured, finding a polite reply about the man he envied harder to utter than he ought to admit. “Punctuality.”

  “Well, if you ask me…” Jed started but stopped abruptly as he turned his head to look at Chip through one narrowed eye while the other squinted closed. “Where’d you say you’re from, mister?”

  “I don’t think I did. Chicago.”

  “Lived there long?”

  “All my life, apart from the times I was on one team or another bringing folks out this way.”

  “Ah! I guess that’s why you knew you could do all that traveling to deliver them letters.”

  Chip nodded, feeling he was being interrogated but for what reason he couldn’t tell. Jed asked a few more questions, about Chip’s brother and the rest of his family, about the number of times he’d been west of the Mississippi, even if he could read or if somebody helped him figure out how to get that letter to Adora. Chip was about to ask if this was some kind of job interview when Jed took his hand in a firm shake, as if he’d met the old man’s stamp of approval.

  “That Adora, she’s a real good girl.”

  Chip nodded again, tempted to admit he’d known that since reading her letter.

  “Where you plannin’ to go now that your task is done, son?”

  “I have an uncle who asked me to be on the lookout for towns along the way to invest in a store. I’ll report back to him, maybe for a job, but I guess I’ll have to see about this rebel business first. Can’t ignore there’s a war going on.”

  Jed folded his arms. “Yep, you’ll do.” Jed nodded as if he’d agreed with himself over some unspoken decision.

  “Pardon me?”

  “I got another mission for you, son. It’s about that Stanford fellow, and he’s gonna walk through that door in three minutes, right on the first stroke of noon.”

  Chip’s brows rose, but he tried not to reveal just how eager he was to listen to what this man had to say about Stanford, even gossip. If it concerned Stanford, it concerned Adora. And that concerned Chip.

  “What kind of mission?” he asked.

  “You stay in town long enough to find out if he really wants the best for Adora, that’s what. I’m pretty sure he ain’t everything he claims to be.”

  “What does he claim to be?”

  “Oh, he may be an investor, like he says. And he’s got his eye on Adora to marry her; that’s true, too. Some people might call that respectable, but liars don’t tend to make the best husbands. Because he ain’t from Indiana like he told me the other day. Tippecanoe ain’t nowhere near the southern tip of Indiana, and I figure somebody claimin’ to be from that state oughta know.”

  Chip reined in his wish to find fault with Stanford, reminding himself of his own ulterior motives. He didn’t know why Jed disliked the man, but lacking geography skills wasn’t enough cause to condemn Stanford’s motives. There must be a reason Adora trusted him enough to spend time with him.

  “Maybe he’s just never seen a map,” Chip offered.

  Instead of exasperation that Chip wasn’t willing to jump in with the plan, Jed grinned and clapped Chip on his shoulder. “Speaks highly of you, that you’d defend a man you don’t know. But there’s somethin’ about him…Listen, I can tell you’re a decent fellow. You can spare a few extra days if it means the happiness of a good girl like Adora, can’t ya?”

  Chip couldn’t resist such words. He nodded just as the hall clock began to chime the first of twelve strokes and Stanford walked through the door.

  Chapter Six

  Adora patted her hair as she entered the crowded dining room. Roseleen certainly would have her hands full meeting the demands of their regular lunch throng! But Adora left such worries behind as she spotted Dirk, who was just approaching Mr. Nolan. Both men shook hands, politely if not stiffly, as Jed pulled out a chair.

  Neither sat. They must have seen Jed catch her eye, his grin tipping off her approach. She smiled as Dirk took her elbow and guided her to the chair Jed had just pulled out.

  “Thank you, Dirk,” she said, though she turned her eye to Mr. Nolan who took the seat just opposite. The table was small and square, and Dirk sat to her right.

  “I guess you can tell ’em what’s on the menu, Adora,” said Jed, “or they can look up at that there chalkboard. Per
sonally, I recommend the minced meat patties because Adora made ’em this mornin’, with the German-fried potatoes and peaches for dessert.”

  Canned peaches, she almost added aloud in case an explanation was necessary but decided not to say so. They were sweet, and that was what counted when it came to peaches. At this time of year, they were the only peaches to be had.

  They ordered three of the recommended meals, and then Adora looked from one handsome face to the other. A shiver tingled along her shoulders—not from the newness of having more than one man interested in her; this was, after all, San Francisco. But to have two gentlemen whose attention she welcomed? That was unusual indeed.

  Their lunch began with polite pleasantries. Weather, accommodations, the surprising growth of the city. But at last Adora turned the conversation where she wanted it to go. “Mr. Nolan, how was your brother when you left him? I admit to worrying about him.”

  “I hope he’s much better by now,” said Mr. Nolan slowly. “I left shortly after the doctor said he would be all right. I’ve sent telegrams letting him know my progress, but I have yet to hear anything in return because I’m never in one place long enough to receive a reply. The telegraph might be fast, but the lines are down too often.”

  “A telegram!” She was still in awe of the service that connected sites with such vast mileage in between.

  “Will you send a telegram of your own, then, to your parents?” Mr. Nolan asked. “To let them know you’ve received their letter after so long? That you’ll be coming home?”

  “I will, just as soon as I can afford my return trip.” She didn’t add that she was saving every penny and even the cost of sending a telegram came dear.

  She saw Jed coming with three meals expertly balanced between an arm and two hands. Being spared a longer answer was just what she needed as he delivered the plates.