The Pony Express Romance Collection

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

  He hauled up a bucket of water and doused his arms to his elbows, dampening the shirt sleeves he’d rolled that high. He sloshed a double handful of the cold water over his face.

  A puff of dust to the east caught his eye. He stiffened and squinted through the heat waves dancing off the prairie. Not enough dust for more than one rider.

  “Rider coming in,” he said.

  Lanny had the blanket on Patch and the saddle in her arms. “Early again?”

  Stewart nodded. The Pony Express schedule wasn’t exact, but he expected a rider early morning and another midafternoon each day. Most days it happened like that. But the schedule had shifted since the telegraph was pushing its way inland from both coasts and shortening the Pony Express route.

  Lanny slung the saddle on Patch.

  “I’ll finish.” Stewart jerked his head toward the cabin. “Best you get out of sight.”

  She slipped away.

  He shook his head. She might be dressed like a boy and had cropped her lovely hair, but she moved with too much grace to fool anyone for long. His stomach tightened at the burden of her safety. Once those bruises disappeared, she wouldn’t fool a blind man, and they were fading fast.

  By the time he had the cinch tightened and the bridle over Patch’s head, the rider was close enough to identify. He was waving his hat above his head, and there was no mistaking that thatch of rust-colored hair.

  “Lanny. Come out here.”

  The door squeaked behind him barely a heartbeat before Lanny raced past. Conn leaped from the saddle before his horse had come to a complete stop and braced himself to catch his sister. Her oversize shirt flapping in the wind, she hurled herself at him. Her face damp with tears, she clung to him. Zeus added to the chaos, barking and jumping around the pair.

  Conn pushed her out to arm’s length, keeping a grip on her shoulders. “I wouldn’t have knowed you.”

  “That was the general idea.” She managed the words between gasps for breath.

  From where he stood, Stewart saw only the unmarred side of her face. Her smile and the happiness radiating from her left an odd hitch in his chest. For a brief moment, he wished he had drawn that response.

  “Can you stay, at least for a bit?” Hope dwindled from her tone as Conn shook his head.

  “You’re ahead of schedule,” Stewart said. “You’ve time for a bite at least.” Riders were allowed a few minutes for drink, food, and the privy if they needed, although few stopped at Horseshoe since they didn’t arrive at mealtimes.

  Stewart nodded toward the cabin. He breathed a sigh of relief when Conn allowed his sister to tug him inside. She needed to spend at least a few moments with him. Stewart caught and tied the weary mount before joining them. Lanny was in a flurry of activity, setting a small feast in front of Conn.

  “What’s the news of the war?” Stewart ignored the startled look Lanny directed at him.

  “You was right ’bout Kentucky.” Conn took a long drink from the cup Lanny gave him then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Some general named Anderson took charge of the Department of Kentucky, whatever that is.”

  Stewart dropped onto a bench and leaned against the table. “The same General Anderson who lost Fort Sumter?”

  Conn shrugged. “Don’t know, but it caused a bit of a ruckus at Fort Laramie.”

  “Have you heard anything about Hugh and the boys?” Lanny asked.

  “Yup. They got to the fort almost on my heels. I’d barely time to find the Pony Express office before I heard ’em. Nobody thought anythin’ of me bein’ there, since they was askin’ after the two of us. It’s a good thing you didn’t come with me. We’d have been found out for sure.”

  “Do you know where they went?” Stewart asked.

  “Nah. They was gone before I got up the next mornin’. The stationmaster let me sleep in the Pony Express bunkhouse. I guess I was some tired. Didn’t wake up till nigh on noon the next day.”

  “Maybe they circled back to the wagon train,” Stewart said.

  The look that passed between the siblings only added to his gut feeling that they hadn’t seen the last of the Bergmans.

  “Is there any other news?” Stewart asked as Conn wolfed down a second biscuit.

  “Almost forgot.” The younger man took another swallow of water. “The telegraph has come clean to Fort Laramie.”

  “It has?” Stewart stiffened on his bench. His days at Horseshoe were coming to an end.

  “Yup, but there ain’t enough operators yet to run it.”

  “Did you hear how soon until it stretches here to Horseshoe?”

  Conn shook his head. “Nobody said, but I heard tell they need more wire to come from back east.” He grabbed his hat off the table and got to his feet. “Time to go.”

  Lanny twisted a towel in her hands. “You be careful.”

  Conn patted the holstered Colt Navy pistol at his side. “Don’t you worry none.”

  Stewart left the cabin with Zeus on his heels, giving them a moment alone. He knew what it was like to ride off and leave family behind.

  Conn rode away as Stewart climbed the hill behind the cabin. Alannah’s heart ached for the first and puzzled over the second. She needed to care for Denver, the horse Conn had arrived on. Yesterday she’d saddled the same horse for a rider heading east. The plucky bay pinned his ears back when she approached.

  “Still not sure about me, are you?”

  She loosened the cinch, staying next to the horse’s shoulder. Stewart had warned her that Denver could cow-kick with the best of them. Once his saddle and blanket were put away, she rubbed and curried him dry then offered him a bucket of water. He pinned his ears again while he sucked it dry.

  “Ungrateful beast.”

  Alannah led Denver to the back corral and put him in with Cyclops. The stock tank was low, so she fetched two buckets of water. Shoulders straining from the walk with a bucket hung from each arm, she approached the corral in time to see Cyclops fling his head up and snort. Fear tightened her grip on the buckets.

  A cloud of dust, too close and too thick to be a Pony rider, raced toward the station. She’d never get to the cabin unseen. Sweat trickled down her spine. She set the buckets under the fence near the stock tank and slipped between the rails. Cyclops moved to her side. Ducking behind him wasn’t much cover, but it was better than nothing. Where was Stewart?

  A bark rang down the hill. Zeus shot like a furry bullet through the tall grass. Behind him jogged Stewart, his shotgun clenched in one hand. She breathed a quick sigh of relief.

  Hugh rode around the cabin thirty yards from where she stood.

  She froze. There was no avoiding him now.

  Stewart called out some form of greeting, but distance garbled his words. Carl rode next to his pa but looked straight at her.

  Alannah grabbed one of the buckets of water and walked to Denver’s side. She bumped the horse’s hip with the bucket. Like a striking snake, Denver lashed sideways with a hind hoof and cracked the wooden bucket against her leg. She fell, letting the water pour over her head and into the dirt of the corral. Cyclops half reared and took a bite at Denver, moving the other horse away from her. Alannah scooped a handful of mud and slathered it over her bruised face and up into her hair.

  She coughed as deep a sound as she could, pushed her hat back onto her head, and got to her feet, careful not to brush at the mud clinging to her. Feet spread wide, she looked toward Stewart, who had halted on the opposite side of the corral.

  “You okay, boy?” he called.

  “Yup.” She shrugged and rubbed her nose with the heel of her muddy hand.

  He nodded and then turned to the Bergmans.

  “You still looking for your runaways?”

  Hugh leaned forward in his saddle and spit. “You still ain’t seen ’em?”

  “Nobody’s been through here except our Pony riders.”

  “What about him?” Carl pointed to Alannah. “He seen anyone?”

  Her heart
stopped before lurching into motion again.

  Stewart turned and looked at her.

  She shook her head and scratched under one arm. “Ain’t.”

  Edward rode to Carl’s side. “Weren’t nothin’ in the cabin.”

  Stewart stiffened. “Who gave you permission to enter my cabin?”

  Edward puffed out his chest and poked a thumb into it. “I don’t need nobody’s permission to do nothin’.”

  Zeus growled.

  “Get off my station.” Stewart’s fingers whitened around the shotgun’s stock. He turned just far enough to bring the gun’s barrel in line with Edward.

  “Who do you think you are, Pony man, pullin’ a gun on us?” Hugh’s voice thundered.

  Alannah’s heart dropped into the dust at her feet.

  Edward half stood in his stirrups.

  Hugh made a slashing movement with his hand. “We ain’t leavin’ this area until we find what’s ours.”

  “There’s nothing of yours here,” Stewart said.

  Hugh glanced at the shotgun, his face darkening. “If we hear different, you’ll regret ever sayin’ that, Pony man.” He jerked his horse around with a curse. His sons followed him to the west.

  Relief and shock mingled in Alannah’s veins. Zeus bounded to her, his wet nose nudging her out of her disbelief. Hugh had backed down.

  “That was quick thinking.” Respect warmed Stewart’s voice.

  Her cheeks answered with a warmth of their own. At least the mud covered most of it.

  “You got rid of them.” More than that, he’d stood up to them. Again.

  His lips thinned to a grim line. “They’ll be back.”

  The heat in her face drained into a sticky, cold dread.

  Chapter Six

  Stewart sat on his prayer rock beneath a gnarled tree with drooping branches that gave him a sense of seclusion. The breeze carried the scent of pine with hints of autumn’s arrival. Another westbound rider had been through with war news. Robert E. Lee was now a full general. Ulysses S. Grant was in charge of forces in southern Illinois and eastern Missouri. Somewhere within all of that were Stewart’s brothers while he sat on a rock in Wyoming.

  He dropped his head into his hands.

  Lord, I feel so useless here. I don’t know what to do. I don’t feel any direction from You. I need help, Lord. Should I return to Virginia?

  Zeus barked.

  Stewart grabbed the shotgun lying beside him and jumped to his feet. In two strides he was clear of the trees. Horseshoe Station lay below him in the full light of a September late afternoon. Zeus barked again. He’d made sure to leave the big dog behind when he left the station since the Bergmans’ intrusion two days ago.

  He shielded his eyes and scanned the horizon. A lone rider on a black horse raced in from the east. The Pony rider they’d expected had been through more than an hour ago. There was no sign of Lanny. Zeus barked again. Stewart sprinted down the hill. He arrived out of breath at the cabin as Benji Crawford leaped from Cyclops.

  “I didn’t expect you today.” Stewart pressed his hand against the stitch in his side.

  “Extra run. Got news that the rebs took Columbus, Kentucky. Came to Fort Laramie over the telegraph. The colonel wants reinforcements from Fort Bridger to ride for Fort Laramie on the double.”

  “Why didn’t he send one of his scouts?” The military didn’t use the Pony Express.

  “Weren’t my place to ask, just grabbed a mount and rode.”

  “Does he expect the fighting will continue to move west?”

  “Who knows what the brass thinks?”

  True enough. “Give me a minute to catch and saddle a horse.”

  “Where’s your stock tender? I ain’t seen him the last few passes.”

  “He’s—” Lanny came around the corner of the cabin leading a fresh mount. Hat mashed down on her head and face smeared with dirt, she slouched along to the hitching rail.

  “There you are.” Benji scratched the back of his head. “Have we met?”

  Stewart shrugged. “Probably not. Lost another stock tender to gold mining. This is Lanny Short. He hasn’t been with me long.”

  Lanny nodded and ducked into the lean-to.

  Benji raised an eyebrow. “They gets younger all the time. He can’t be more than thirteen.”

  “Hard-luck case, but hopefully he won’t run after gold. It’ll take a minute. Help yourself to a drink. There’s corn bread on the counter.”

  Benji stepped into the cabin while Lanny emerged with the saddle and blanket.

  “That was close,” Stewart whispered. He squelched the urge to take the heavy saddle from her and stepped back. Benji might be watching from the window.

  Lanny had the fresh horse ready and was tugging the saddle from Cyclops when Benji reappeared. The Pony rider nodded before vaulting into the saddle and racing west.

  Lanny worked a sack and brush over Cyclops while Stewart’s heartbeats returned to normal. This couldn’t last. He shot a glance at his stock tender. Sooner or later someone would recognize the delicate features under that layer of horse hair and dirt she wore. He couldn’t return to Virginia until Conn found a safe place for his sister.

  If there was one to be found.

  “Benji about ran you into the ground.” Alannah spoke to Cyclops after Stewart had stalked off without saying a word. Like always. He hadn’t said more than a dozen words to her since the Bergmans left. At least he hadn’t disappeared up the hill this time.

  She scanned the horizon. Where was Conn?

  Zeus bumped her hand with his wet nose. She scratched behind his ears until his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth in a canine grin of appreciation. He’d warned her of the rider coming in. The way Stewart had charged down the hill at the dog’s bark replayed in her mind’s eye. The stationmaster was looking out for her like a brother would.

  No brother of hers would have that sable hair or own the kind of manners he had. She pressed her hand to her chest and took a deep breath. The man barely spoke to her except to be polite. Thinking about him at all was pure foolishness.

  Cyclops stomped a hoof. “I haven’t forgotten you.” She finished drying and brushing his coat before giving him a drink from the bucket. He raised his dripping muzzle and snorted, water droplets showering Alannah from head to heels.

  She grimaced. “Ma spent all those years making sure I had an education, yet here I am covered in dirt and horse slop. Trying to stay alive.”

  Stewart drummed his fingers on the open ledgers before him when the door banged shut.

  “The haystack’s almost gone.” Lanny pulled her hat off and hung it on a peg by the door. Cropped red hair fell in damp waves from a brisk washing outside, evident from her reddened face and wet shirtsleeves.

  “I know. I’ll send word to Fort Laramie with the eastbound rider tomorrow.”

  “Didn’t you send a note two days ago?” She cocked her head and looked straight at him.

  Cleaned of their dirt covering, freckles peppered the bridge of her nose and scattered across her cheeks. Her blue-gray eyes sought his in an earnest manner that tugged at something deep inside of him. How had Benji ever mistaken her for a boy?

  “Well? Didn’t you?”

  Didn’t he what? He pulled his attention away from her face, the swelling gone and the bruises fading. Hay. She’d asked about hay. “Yes, but it sometimes takes a few prods to get it delivered.”

  She nodded and turned to the stove while he hunched over his ledger and tried to concentrate. Pots clanging on the stove and the chop of a knife soon gave way to a savory aroma. Whatever she did with those dried herbs was magic on the salt pork they ate every day. Fresh meat would be nice, but that would mean leaving her alone, and he couldn’t do that.

  Zeus shot to his feet with a whine and paced to the door.

  Stewart rushed to the window. “Rider coming. Just one.” He glanced at the rope ladder to the loft and then at the stove. There was no way he could cover for what smelle
d heavenly in that lidded pot.

  Lanny hurried up the ladder.

  Stewart slipped his Colt Dragoon into his belt, just in case.

  Zeus pawed at the door. Stewart opened it, and the big dog shot outside. His full-throated bark filled the evening air. Stewart followed him.

  The rider on a leggy buckskin horse pulled up in front of the cabin. Zeus growled at the stranger, the dog’s long fur standing along his shoulders. The rider pushed his hat back, exposing his face.

  “Are you Stewart McCann?”

  “I am.”

  The stranger eyed the cabin and scanned the area around it. “Then this is Horseshoe Station.”

  “It is.”

  A smile flashed. “I’ve come on official business.”

  Stewart had met the men who ran the neighboring Pony Express stations as well as those at Fort Laramie. He’d never seen this fellow before. “What kind of business?”

  “Western Union Telegraph Company business.” He nodded toward Zeus. “If you’ll call off your dog, we can talk about it.”

  “Zeus.” The dog trotted to Stewart’s side and sat.

  The stranger dismounted and then tied his horse to the hitching rail. He stuck out his hand. “Hiram Norwood.”

  Stewart shook the offered hand. “Come on in.”

  Hiram stopped inside the doorway and sniffed. “Looks like I arrived at the right time. Dare I hope there’s enough to share?” His brown eyes crinkled in the corners.

  “Should be. I’ll check to see if it’s done.” Not that he had a clue, but he grabbed a towel and lifted the lid before poking at the contents. He replaced the lid. “Let’s talk your business first, and then it should be done.” He hoped. He gestured toward the table.

  Hiram sat and steepled his fingers in front of him as he leaned his elbows on the table. Stewart settled on the bench across from him.

  “Western Union Telegraph Company is very close to stretching our wires from coast to coast.”